Page 50 of Licence To Howl
Scarlett pouted. ‘He started it.’
Devereau pretended not to notice that the second security guard was eyeing Scarlett with lascivious interest. His buddy might not enjoy the thought of being fed upon by a vampire but he was clearly game. ‘Let’s get a move on,’ he said. He squared his shoulders, ignored the renewed flash of hot pain that rippled down his body, and strode inside the building.
They trailed through various wide corridors which were well appointed, clean, contained some interesting art work but still maintained the definite whiff of strict adherence to bureaucracy. Eventually, when it seemed as if they were deep in the very bowels of the embassy, they were deposited in a small room with a keypad entry. There was nobody inside. But there was an open laptop sitting atop a narrow aluminium desk with Sarah Greensmith’s face blinking blearily on the screen. She’d clearly been roused directly from her bed. Her eyes were heavy-lidded and, instead of her usual smart suit, she was wearing a terry cloth bathrobe. Still, as soon as Devereau came into view, she straightened up, her expression altering to its default business-like facade.
‘Mr Webb.’
Devereau nodded at her. ‘I was expecting Maximillian Jones.’
‘He doesn’t exist. His name is merely a code word for action stations. We are MI5, Mr Webb. We do like our little secretive games.’ She permitted herself a tiny smile. Then her gaze hardened. ‘The vampire has to wait outside.’
‘The vampire,’ he replied coolly, ‘already knows everything.’
Scarlett moved into view and waved enthusiastically. ‘It’s true. I do.’
Greensmith did not look pleased. ‘Nobody,’ she snapped, ‘is supposed to know what you’re doing or who you work for, Mr Webb. That’s been made clear to you on several occasions.’
‘She worked out that I’m with MI5 all on her own,’ Devereau said, ‘which is a shortcoming on your part, not mine. But if you want to scold me instead of finding out what the real problem is, then knock yourself out. For my part, I think we’ve got bigger problems than protocol.’
Greensmith scowled. From her expression, she wanted to pursue the matter of Scarlett’s involvement further and Devereau was certain it was a conversation he’d have to deal with later. Fortunately for all of them, however, she also knew when to prioritise. ‘Tell me,’ she said. ‘Go on then. What’s the problem and why is it an emergency?’
Devereau drew in a breath. Then he explained what had happened to Solentino and what they’d seen at his apartment, leaving out no details.
Sarah Greensmith listened, her face giving away none of her thoughts. It was only when Devereau finished speaking that she spoke. ‘Do you think this Geraint Vissier is the one responsible?’
‘I don’t think so. Not from the way he acted when he entered the apartment. He was as shocked as we were.’
‘In fact,’ Scarlett added, ‘he probably thinks thatwe’rethe ones responsible. He certainly ran fast enough to indicate that he believed his own life was in danger.’
Greensmith sucked on her bottom lip. ‘And there was definitely no sign of Alina Bonnet’s body?’
‘Nope. It was her blood on the wall, however. If she’s still alive, I doubt she’s in good shape.’
‘Why take her and leave the others?’ she mused.
Devereau knew that Greensmith wasn’t expecting an answer from him. It was just as well. He didn’t have any answers to give.
‘Maybe whoever is responsible wanted to keep her alive because she has information about Solentino’s plans that they still want,’ Scarlett suggested. ‘Or maybe there’s more to Alina Bonnet than we realised and we’re underestimating her involvement. Or maybe the killer was simply squeamish because she’s female. Who the fuck knows?’
‘Hmm.’ Greensmith tapped her mouth thoughtfully. ‘Regardless of the outcome of Ms Bonnet’s disappearance, we have no way of knowing whether any of these developments will prove to be a good thing or a bad thing.’
Given the killer’s lack of compunction, not to mention the manner of Solentino’s death, Devereau strongly suspected the latter. He was the novice at all this stuff, however. He was prepared to defer to her, at least for now.
‘Give me five minutes,’ Greensmith told them. ‘I need to pass this up the chain of command. Don’t go anywhere.’ She glared at them both through the screen. ‘And don’t do anything stupid.’
‘A thank you would have been nice,’ Scarlett murmured, as the laptop screen went momentarily blank.
Devereau sat down heavily on a nearby chair and closed his eyes. His head was pounding and his legs were feeling shaky again.
‘R.B.P.L.’
‘Pardon?’ Scarlett asked.
‘The letters we found on that piece of paper. R. B. P. L. What could they mean?’
There was a pause. Devereau opened one eye and squinted at Scarlett. She waved her phone at him. ‘Google says Risk Based Profit and Loss.’
Huh. ‘Lots or risk,’ he muttered. ‘And so far, not very much profit.’
