The Carbon Trail by Catriona King Page B

his office and the search for Greg Chapman.

Chapter Fifteen
     
    Pereira gazed at herself in the wing mirror and blushed, half-embarrassed by the memory of the night before. She stared hard for some sign of guilt, but all that stared back at her was pleasure. She tutted angrily at herself. She’d been unfaithful to her husband; at least she should have the good grace to look ashamed. The way she’d been raised a lightning bolt should be striking her dead by now!
    A vision of Richie stretched across the hotel bed flashed into her mind and she felt the warmth of arousal spread between her thighs. She was about to chastise herself again when static from the dashboard told her to expect a call. Two seconds later her daydream was shattered by the sound of Magee gasping angrily down the line.
    “Two agents dead. Two of my most reliable men!”
    The night before’s pleasure made Pereira bold and she answered her boss back too quickly with anger in her voice.
    “We don’t know that Chapman is dead yet, but we should pick up Mitchell and sweat it out of him.”
    It was a mistake. Disagreeing with Magee was never a good idea, but disagreeing and having ideas of your own was grounds for being sacked.
    “Don’t argue with me, Pereira, and leave Mitchell alone. It was incompetent surveillance that led to all of this.”
    She opened her mouth to object but her words never reached the air.
    “I want this operation rolled up as soon as possible. I’m sending two more agents to back you up. You’ll work with them to find out what Mitchell’s up to; and quickly or heads will roll. Do you understand me?”
    The only answer Magee wanted was yes, so Pereira obliged.
    “Where’s Mitchell now?”
    “Still in the building, sir.”
    “No more trips to the café?”
    “No.” She hesitated for a moment then decided to push her luck.
    “If Mitchell knows about Brunet’s death, won’t the café be off limits now?”
    Her question was greeted by a wheeze then a long silence. Finally Magee spoke.
    “Much as it grieves me to say it, you’re right, Agent Pereira. They won’t risk using the café again. That means they’ll have to contact Mitchell in some other way.”
    He thought for a moment then spoke decisively.
    “Mitchell should be home for the night by seven. I’m calling you all in for a meeting at nine o’clock.”
    The line went dead and Pereira made a face at the receiver. Few of them had ever met Magee, and she wasn’t eager for the introduction. Then she smiled. A meeting meant she’d get to see Richie again, even sooner than they’d planned.
    ***
    Devon coughed nervously and stared at Neil Scrabo’s back as he stood by the window, perusing the city. A phrase popped into Devon’s mind. ‘Master of all he surveys.’ He searched his memory for its origins but his reverie was broken by Scrabo turning to face him. Devon dropped his eyes to avoid Scrabo’s gaze; he remembered it from Thursday’s meeting and it wasn’t a kind one.
    Neil Scrabo scanned the man in front of him, placing him firmly in a box marked ‘followers’. In his experience men fell into one of two groups. Leaders and followers. He preferred the second. Followers were easy and largely predictable. With the right motivation they did whatever they were told, and he had a bank account full of motivation.
    He walked towards Devon with one hand extended and a whisky in the other. Devon was taken aback by Scrabo’s bonhomie and stared at his hand like it was a snake. He grasped it awkwardly at the last moment then sat hastily in the indicated chair.
    “Tea or coffee, Dr Cantrell?” Scrabo’s mellifluous voice became almost confiding and he indicated his glass. “Something stronger perhaps? Feel free.”
    Devon shook his head nervously, certain that it was some kind of sobriety test, and instead croaked “Coffee, white please.” He took the proffered cup with a shaky hand, his mind racing through the reasons that he might have been summoned.