In the end, she hadn’t bothered. If she decided she didn’t want to see him, she’d stay in the office. He was hardly likely to be able to get to her through the four layers of security he’d need to clear to reach her desk.
As she made her way to her desk, she nodded to a few people she recognized. Her workstation was in a large room with four others, the spaces divided into cubicles. Yesterday, only two of them had been occupied. Hers and the one farthest away. She’d winced when he’d looked up and she’d seen the dog collar. This place appeared to be staffed by priests and ex-soldiers. It was going to be so much fun working here.
She’d bought a coffee from the bar next door, which hadn’t gone down too well with security. They’d confiscated it as though it might be poisoned or contain a bomb or a hidden camera. She bought one from the coffee machine that was past all the security. She hoped it was better than the stuff at Scotland Yard. As she put her bag in her drawer, she realized she’d forgotten her gun; she wasn’t used to carrying, and it was still in the kitchen where she’d taken it off last night.
She switched on her monitor. This morning, she planned to go over the files on Rosamund Fairfax. The witch.
Rosamund Fairfax had turned up in London fifteen years previously, but there was no connection between her and CR International until about a month ago. After the murder of Julie Foster and the abduction of Jessica.
Bummer.
Faith had been so sure that must be how she’d known about Jessica’s whereabouts. “Shit.”
“Are you talking to me?” an amused voice said. She glanced up and found the colonel standing behind her. Again.
“No, just the world in general. So any sign of that clearance yet? I could really do with access to that evidence you keep talking about.”
“Not yet. The boss is away on business right now, but we’ll get to it as soon as he’s back. So have you contacted your old partner?”
She was in a bind, because she didn’t want to lie to her new boss, but she didn’t want to involve Ryan any more than she had to.
“No. I’ve tried and it seems he’s avoiding me. I went over there, but he was apparently ‘out.’ I spoke to his new partner, and I think he might be a better way in.”
“You do?”
“Yeah, he asked me out—I’m thinking about it.”
“What was his name?”
“Ashton Delacourt.”
“Move over.”
Faith slid her chair out of the way to give the colonel more room and he typed in the name. “Nothing.”
He pressed something else and finally his thumb to the keypad. No doubt getting access to those “interesting” files. “Still nothing,” he muttered. “We have no file on the man.” He cleared his access and stepped back. “Never mind, I suggest you accept Mr. Delacourt and I’ll get our researchers working on him.”
She felt a pang of guilt as though she was handing Ash over to the bad guys. Which was plain stupid. If he hadn’t done anything wrong, they wouldn’t find anything. If he had, then he deserved whatever he got.
Ryan had always said she was too black and white, that people weren’t bad or good but all sorts of levels in between. But she’d never believed that. You had choices in life, and what you made of those choices defined who you were. At some point in most people’s lives, they had to decide. Good or bad.
“So you visited CR International. Did you meet anyone else?”
“Rosamund Fairfax came in while I was there and another woman—Tara Roth.”
He raised a brow, a sign she was beginning to think meant he was surprised or even impressed. “Christian Roth’s new wife. And what did you make of her?”
“Didn’t have time to make anything. We met only briefly.”
He pursed his lips. “Well, if you can find some way to get closer to her—do it.”
“Yes, boss.”
After the colonel had disappeared into his office, she spent a while longer reading the files and finding very little of interest.
The only good thing about the morning was Faith’s headache had gone as though it had never been there. Actually, she felt great and grateful there had been no other symptoms.
It was nearly time to make the decision whether to meet Ash or not. But she knew she was going; she had to get out of here for a while or go crazy.
She stopped at the final checkpoint. “Did you enjoy my coffee?” she asked the guard. Ex-army she reckoned though he was dressed in a private-security-firm uniform.
“Yes, but next time I prefer two sugars.”
“Ha-ha.” She made to walk out, but paused. “Have you worked here long?”
A wary expression crossed his face. Probably cross-referencing her question against his list of things he wasn’t allowed to talk about. She’d been given one herself, and it had been long. “Two years.”
“And have you met the boss?”
“The colonel? Every day.” He sounded puzzled.
“No, I meant the colonel’s boss.”
“He has one?”