Page 230 of Storm of Bells
Eyes narrowing infinitesimally, I zeroed inon the door of my office. The door that was the only thingseparating me from the one I was wasting time waiting for. The onewho still hadn’t shown up. Still hadn’t knocked.
Over the years of being one of Britain’sbiggest employers, I had come to know Miss Lillian Linton quitewell and had developed some significant office instincts. Theseoffice instincts were currently telling me that it didn’t take morethan twenty seconds to walk the few feet from my secretary’s deskto the connecting door.
‘Come in, Mr Linton.’
From the other side of the door, I heard alow curse. Then, a moment later, the doorknob turned and the doorbegan to creak open.
‘Mr Ambrose?’ A familiar head of brown hairappeared through the gap in the door. ‘You, um…wanted to see me,Sir?’
She was trying to smile. Emphasis on trying.That didn’t change the fact that her expression resembled that of apuppy who had left a puddle on the carpet.
Ah. So she does have some semblance ofsense.
Or maybe not. After reading those documents,it seemed increasingly unlikely.
‘Indeed. Close the door.’
‘Certainly, Sir,’ she promptly agreed andstarted to retreat.
My eyes narrowed a fraction more.‘Aftercoming inside.’
‘Oh. Um…As you wish, Sir.’ The mischievouslittleifritstepped inside, closing the door behind her.How convenient. No witnesses.
Steepling my fingers, I leaned forward anddid my best to stare holes into her.
‘Ah. Mr Linton. Thank you so much for gracingme with your presence.’
‘It’s my pleasure, Sir,’ she lied in animpressively convincing manner. She was good, I had to give herthat.
‘It is?’ I cocked my head.Well, it won’tbe for much longer. ‘I thought you were far too busy for thelikes of me these days. After all, you’re working on youradvertising campaign, are you not?’
‘No, Sir.’ She smiled. After what she haddone, she dared tosmile. ‘My advertising campaign hasalready been launched.’
Oh, I know. Trust me, I know.
‘That,’ I answered, putting ice into everysyllable, ‘is what I deduced when I sawthis.’
Lifting the paper, I slammed it down onto thetable, front page visible to all.
‘But then I thought, no! Mr Linton is amoderately competent secretary and marginally sane person. He wouldnot go out and launch a nationwide advertising campaign on a newproduct without showing me his plans, without even getting thego-ahead!’
Her smile did not budge an inch. Instead itbecame wider. How was her head still not splitting apart? ‘Oh, youknow what you always say: Knowledge is power is time is money. Howcould I possibly waste your valuable time? I didn’t want to disturbyou in your important work.’
That muscle in my cheek twitched again. Quitefitting, considering the bloody cheek of her! To use my own wordsagainst me…
‘Howvery considerateof you. Do youknow what I also often say?’
‘N-no?’
‘Disastrous advertising campaigns cost money!Incompetent employees get fired!’
Blinking, she scratched her head. ‘I’m tryingto remember, but right now I can’t recall a single instance of yousaying that. Are you sure? Because if you had—’
‘Silence!’
She shut her mouth.
‘Why?’ It was not a question. Not a query. Itwas a demand. ‘Why did you not come for my approval?’
