Page 66 of Carbon

A shiver rippled through me as Nye turned to Luke. “Have you heard anything?”

“Mack said if I lent a hand, she’d dress up in kinky underwear.”

“Mack is his wife,” Nye explained. “She works for the company too.”

A soft knock signalled Janelle’s arrival with food, and although the sandwich platter and fresh fruit were perfectly acceptable fare, I couldn’t stomach a bite. The men demolished the lot while I sat on the furthest chair, worrying more with every passing second.

What the hell had Ben done to attract this sort of attention?

Once Nye had eaten, he left, leaving me to mull over my thoughts alone. When he returned half an hour later, he was followed by a huge man who filled the room with his presence. One look into his bottomless eyes and I realised that being caught by the police might be the better option for Ben. Five minutes alone with that giant, and I’d be begging for a jail cell myself.

Three others came in after them—two men, one with a beard, one without—and a dark-haired girl whose face was devoid of all expression.

“Emmy’s in a cab from Heathrow,” the giant said.

Was this the man Nye called Black? It had to be, surely. His attire certainly suggested so.

I shrank back as he fixed me with his gaze, but rather than speaking to me, he turned to Nye and raised an eyebrow.

“Angelica Fordham’s sister.”

“I know who she is; I’m more curious as to why she’s here.”

“Because she knows a thing or two about our target, and I’m hoping at some point she’ll share.”

Thanks, Nye.

I expected more questions, but the man merely nodded and pressed an intercom button near the door. “Simone, could you make sure Emmy’s got coffee waiting when she arrives.”

The dark-haired woman took a seat at the opposite end of the table, and I caught her staring at me. Rather than looking away, she studied me with an intensity bordering on painful. At that moment, I wished I’d stayed at home. Even afternoon drinkies with my mother would have been more pleasant than the pressure cooker I’d trapped myself in. I stared out longingly through the solitary window on the far wall, seeing nothing but a grey sky.

Well done, Augusta.

Five minutes later, a blonde lady strode through the door, holding a frothy mug of coffee in one hand and a donut in the other. The big man took the donut from her and scored a perfect bull’s-eye in the rubbish bin sitting in the corner of the room.

The look on her face said he was lucky not to get the coffee dumped over him, but she slammed it on the table, marched out, and came back thirty seconds later with a chocolate éclair. Middle finger raised towards him, she sauntered to the end of the table furthest from the door and took a seat beside me.

“Emmy,” she said, grinning.

Finally, a friendly face. “Augusta.”

“Yeah, I know. Sorry about your sister.”

Had Nye told everyone in the entire company about what happened? It felt as if my life didn’t belong to me anymore, but I had to stay polite.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll catch the bastard.”

Would they? Or would they catch Ben instead?

Dev twisted a knob next to the intercom. As the lights dimmed, the glass looking out onto the open-plan office frosted over, and the wall opposite lit up with a shield logo that was replicated on the table in front of Black. The room fell silent, and all heads turned in his direction as we waited for him to speak.

“I’m sure you’re all wondering why we’re here today. Beau Davies isn’t the type of case the Special Projects department would usually get involved in, but it seems our unfortunate suspect now has two of our clients interested in finding him.”

Two? Who the heck was the other one?

“Client number two wants Mr. Davies brought in by us rather than the police, which means we don’t share our information with the Met. Use anything we can get from them, but the flow goes one way only.”

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