Shadows in Death (In Death #51) - J.D. Robb Page 0,80
favors.”
“Who’d argue with Nadine? Sit, show me. I’ll be brutally honest.”
After she had, and went back inside pleased and satisfied, he sat in the quiet alone.
When his ’link signaled—one of his contacts on Cobbe—he accepted the optimistic part of his day ended.
“This is Roarke,” he answered.
Once he’d passed what spotty information he had on to Eve, Roarke went to his headquarters determined to do at least some work. He couldn’t and wouldn’t let Cobbe dominate every damn minute of the day.
From the garage, he took his private elevator up to his office level, and found his admin, Caro, manning her desk.
“I wasn’t sure you’d make it in today.”
“Neither was I, but things are running smooth at the school, so I’ve time enough to see to a few things.”
“Speaking of that.” In her ever-efficient way, Caro swiveled, called up a log. “Fitzwalter sent his report on the Monrovia meeting, and Dolliger sent the specs you’ve been waiting for. Your morning was clear for An Didean, but you may want to look over those two items and the latest counter from the lawyers on the Kovax merger.”
He eased a hip on her desk. “More bullshit there, is it?”
She smiled at him. She wore a dove-gray suit with a bold red shirt that set off her wedge of snow-white hair.
“For the most part, yes. I imagine you’ll cut through it easily enough. It’s posturing, and obvious posturing at that. I suspect they’re hoping you’ll tire of the back-and-forth and just give them some of the less far-fetched perks they’re pushing for.”
“They’ll be disappointed.”
“Yes, I suspected that, too. One other thing?” She lifted a hand, rubbed at the little pearl stud in her ear. “You’ve had three calls come in over the main contact in the last hour. All from different ’link numbers, but clearly from the same person. Blocked video each time.”
Cobbe, he thought, and felt a heat spread inside him. One he recognized as anticipation.
“Is that so?”
“It is, and knowing what’s going on, I initiated a trace on the last.”
He expected no less from her. “And?”
“The last contact, at thirteen-oh-six, originated from Hudson Street, moving uptown from Christopher to West Tenth. The caller, who identified himself as Grafton, was either walking or driving—very slowly if driving—on Hudson.”
“All right. If another comes through, start the trace, then pass him on to me. Well done, Caro.”
“Roarke.” With the affection of long standing, she laid a hand over his. “You will be very careful.”
“Depend on it.” He squeezed her hand before he rose, then went into his office.
And contacted Eve.
“Cobbe was walking on Hudson Street fifteen minutes ago.”
“What? You saw him?”
“He’s been trying to contact me here at my office, which proves him a rare git. Caro started a trace.”
“Stay put, let me know if he contacts you again. I’m on this.”
She clicked off without another word.
He turned in his desk chair, stared at the wall of glass to the towers of New York. Downtown then, and so—high probability—would his safe house be.
That would put a solid dozen possibles uptown low on the list.
Yes, a rare git, as Eve would conclude the same and focus the search downtown.
If not a rare git, he considered, a ploy to shift attention away? But doubtful there, as he had no reason to think they were focusing on safe houses.
Ring me back, you shagging bastard, and we’ll have ourselves a little chat.
He forced himself to put it aside—for now—opted to read through the bullshit counteroffer first.
And on what planet, he thought as he scored through line after line, was the sky quite such a shade of rosy pink they’d think he’d give the lazy, inept, greedy execs—who’d mismanaged into the ground what had been a solid little company—golden parachutes to land so soft?
They’d take his offer—more than fair enough—as is, or end up mired in the muck.
He wrote a memo to that effect, copying his own legal team and Caro, then shot it off.
It lightened his mood, as work tended to do, so he read over Fitzwalter’s detailed and sharp report, sent off another memo to those connected to the project.
He settled in with the specs, found himself largely satisfied. A few changes here and there, which he detailed with another memo to the chief engineer on that project.
Even as he sent it, Caro buzzed him.
“I’ve got him on hold, told him you were just finishing another call. Trace is going now.”
“That’s fine then. Keep it going, I’ll bring the trace and the call up here.”