“Hmmm.” Kerry pulled a mug from her briefcase and retrieved a teabag from a side pocket, then she strolled to the door and slipped through it, her curiosity fully aroused.
Chapter
Three
THE COMPANY HEADQUARTERS complex was, in a word, huge.
Dar was on the perimeter road under a hot sun, but the wind provided by her nice shiny Harley more than compensated. She accelerated, enjoying the feel of the large engine under her and the sensation of being exposed to nature, in a way she never got while driving in Miami.
Maybe she’d get a cycle back home. Dar waggled an eyebrow, glancing aside to watch a herd of buffalo thunder past, raising a cloud of dust and sending the scent of warm wool to her nose. Wonder if Kerry would like this? She imagined her lover behind her, holding on as they raced around, and a grin split her face . I bet she would.
The road curved around towards the entrance, and Dar throttled down the cycle, slowing the machine to a rumbling crawl as she came up to the gates. The guard darted out and another joined him as she pulled to a halt and fished in her jacket pocket for her ID badge.
“Hold on.” The man held up a warning hand. His partner stood off and put a hand on his holstered gun.
Dar almost laughed as she unhooked her helmet and pulled it off, shaking her hair loose. “Here,” she handed him the badge, “I’m not a terrorist.”
The man came forward and took the card, giving her a suspicious look before he glanced down at it. Then his attitude changed so fast it was a wonder, Dar thought, that his tie didn’t spin around his head and choke him. He stiffened up and ducked his head at her. “Ma’am,” a hand waved off his partner urgently, “I think they’re expecting you.”
Dar gave him a whole hearted, sexy grin. “I bet they aren’t.” She took her badge back and waited while the gate opened, then gunned the engine cheerfully and swept on by, thoroughly enjoying herself. She pulled up into a spot near the front door and left the helmet perched on the handlebars.
Four steps up, then a small waterfall filled pool, another six steps, then a weird sculpture, another four steps, and she was at the front doors, massive glass portals so perfectly balanced they opened at a touch of her fingertips. She walked in, her boots sounding loud on the marble tile, and let the door whisper shut behind her. The lobby was very quiet, only a small fountain in the corner breaking the stillness, and Dar spent a Eye of the Storm 19
moment merely standing and absorbing it all.
“Hasn’t changed a bit.” Dar shook her head in mild disgust and headed for the elevators, perched behind an imposing guard desk. “Pretentious piece of...”
“Can I help you, ma’am?” The guard’s voice stopped her. “Are you looking for someone?”
Dar walked over and leaned on the counter. “Yeah.” She pulled off her sunglasses and chewed on an earpiece. “Alastair McLean.”
The cool hazel eyes studied her, before scanning a list behind the desk. “Is he expecting you, ma’am?” His voice was pointed on the title.
“Yep.” Dar flipped her badge onto the counter.
Reluctantly, the man took it and put it on the desk, then started typing in something, glancing at the badge as he did so. His hands stopped, and he leaned closer, then looked up at her in evident shock.
Dar smiled. “Not what you expected?”
He slowly handed her the badge back. “No, ma’am, Ms. Roberts, not exactly.” Now the voice was respectful. “You can go on up. You know the way, I guess.”
The dark haired woman smiled, then moved past him to the bank of glass and marble lined elevators, one of which was resting on ground level in all its brassy splendor. Dar entered it and punched the twenty-third floor, then leaned against the wall as the doors slid shut and the car moved upward.
It stopped on fifteen and two men got on, arguing over a Y2K
upgrade on a legacy program Dar remembered writing seven or eight years prior. She listened in amusement as they debated, ignoring the glances they kept giving her.
“If they’d have left that original code in place, Dave, we’d be fine.”
“You tell them that. I tried to tell them that two years ago, but no.
No. They had their heads stuck too far up their butts to go and ask the original coder.” The shorter man shook his head in disgust. “Pansy asses.”
“Well,” the taller man chuckled, as they got out on the twentieth floor, “I don’t know. I’m not sure I’d have the balls to go tell Dar Roberts I’d messed up her code either.”
The doors slid shut and Dar snickered, then eyed her reflection, flicking her dark hair into a semblance of order as the elevator reached its destination and the doors opened.
It was, if anything, even quieter up here than in the lobby. There was soundproofing weave on all the walls and the floors had plush, padded carpeting on them. Dar walked silently through the entryway, lit by sunlight that poured in through the vaulted glass ceilings, and turned down the largest corridor, which had plaques all down its length.
The soft sounds of business could be heard through the wooden doors she passed and she exchanged nods with two other women who passed her. Finally she was at the last set of doors and she grabbed the ornate brass handles and pulled them open.
20 Melissa Good Inside was a large, airy antechamber, roughly circular, with three doors leading off it. In the center was a small fountain and to one side, a huge, laminated wood circular desk presided, with a tall, austere woman seated precisely in the center, her attention focused on a paper.
“Hello, Beatrice.” Dar’s voice broke the quiet.
Startled, the woman glanced up. “Oh I...” Then she turned her head fully. “Well, my God, Paladar Roberts. It’s been forever.” Beatrice laughed and stood up. “Or at least, what…five years?”
“At least,” Dar allowed, walking over and folding her arms over her chest. “You know I hate this place.”
Alastair’s long time assistant cocked her head and smiled, pulling down her half glasses a little. “You show up like that just to tweak him?”
she asked gently. “Bad timing, if it was. Ankow’s really giving it to him in there.”
“I know. That’s why he asked me to show up,” Dar replied. “They still in session?”
“Mmm.” Beatrice nodded her neatly coifed gray head. “He’s trouble, Dar. He wants to get Alastair out.” The older woman folded her hands and sighed. “Have you met him?”
“No.”
“Well, I can’t say I like him much. He’s in his early forties, good looking, sporty type,” Beatrice told her. “Thinks anyone who can remember World War II should be gone and buried. He doesn’t have much patience with what he regards as the old ways.”
“Really.” Dar considered the door to the conference room. “Change for the sake of change gets no one anything but trouble, Beatrice. You know that.”
“Mmm. Well, he’s on a campaign to get the board restructured and remove Alastair. He thinks he has the leverage. You know last quarter’s results weren’t that great.”
“We’re trying to fix that,” Dar replied quietly. “You can’t sell facilities you don’t have.”
“I know that, and you know that. Maybe you should tell Mr. Ankow that.” Beatrice’s dark eyes twinkled. “He took one look at your sixteen year tenure and he wants you out, too.” She gazed at Dar. “You look great for such an old-timer, Paladar.”
A look of wry amusement crossed Dar’s tanned features. “Thanks.”