He hung up and didn’t move. Curious, Laura glanced over. She didn’t think he had a girlfriend, but his tone sounded evasive and defensive. When their eyes met, he acted self-conscious, as if he had forgotten she was there. He turned to his computer.
“Excuse me, but has Ms. Tate called or anything?” she asked.
Liam continued typing without looking up again. “No. She’s usually on time. She’ll be here.”
Laura looked pointedly at her watch. “I have a doctor’s appointment that I don’t want to miss. At this point, I don’t think I’ll have time, so can I reschedule this?”
He did turn then. “Is it over at InterSec? I can have Mariel rearrange that for you.”
Liam’s intuition made sense. He facilitated the job with Foyle, so he knew she was InterSec. “Um… that’s kind of personal, but thanks. I’ll call Ms. Tate to reschedule.”
She left the anteroom and rode the rear elevator to the seventh floor. Entering her room through the back hallway, she shed the Janice glamour, including the outfit. Catching sight of her jeans, she rejected the idea of another plain outfit for the day. Saffin would be sure to mention it, and even more sure to be disappointed in Laura. If Laura allowed herself any indulgence, it was an expensive wardrobe for her public-relations work. She changed into a designer label, a lightweight caramel-colored pantsuit with a black-and-white horizontal-striped blouse.
As she fixed her hair, she put her phone on speaker and called Saffin. “Hi, Saf. It’s me. Can you do me a favor and see if I left a folder at Rhys’s office? I was down there this morning, and now I can’t find it.”
“Sure. Are you coming in?” Saffin asked.
“Yeah. I’m down grabbing a coffee and will be right up.”
“Got it.” Saffin hung up.
Laura repacked her overnight bag for later and dropped it in the closet on her way through to her office. She called the reception desk on the Guildmaster’s floor. “Hi, it’s Laura Blackstone. Saffin’s on the way up. When she gets there, can you tell her I found the file I was looking for?”
The receptionist acknowledged and hung up. Laura hated manipulating Saffin. Between her natural tendency to please and her brownie predilection to accomplish tasks at all costs, Saffin’s compliance bordered on submission. After working together so many years, Laura knew the woman had bonded with her, and the connection was strong. It was a level of trust that Laura did not take lightly.
Saffin breezed into the office. “Hi. Did Rhys rewrite his speech again?”
Laura rolled her eyes. “He wants to impress our special guest.”
Saffin nodded. “Speaking of which, Secret Service sent over another revision on the outside security. They’re closing down Constitution Avenue during the speeches.”
In the original plan, the secretary of state was to represent the U.S. at the Archives ceremony. She would still speak, but High Queen Maeve had a major fan in the current president. He had sent word to be put on the program as a surprise guest. Of course, the presence of the media and his desire to expand mutual security initiatives with the Seelie Court had plenty to do with it.
“And speaking of the speeches, have you heard the news?” said Laura. “Hornbeck got what he wanted. Tylo Blume’s in. The chief archivist is going on first, so let’s stick Blume right after him. He gets five minutes. With any luck, everyone will have forgotten he was there by the time the president arrives.”
Saffin grinned. “I love when you do stuff like that.”
Laura scrunched her nose. “I hate all the gamesmanship, but it’s part of the, um, game in this town.”
“I’m going to go to the Archives this afternoon for an event run-through. Anything you want me to focus on?” Saffin asked.
Laura shook her head. “Use your judgment. You probably know more than I do at this point.”
“Can I have a company car?” Saffin asked.
Amused, Laura shook her head. “No. It’s five blocks.”
Saffin giggled as she left. With a touch of envy, Laura watched her leave. Despite all the evident frustrations of dealing with Laura’s odd schedule, Saffin loved her job-the big personalities, the complicated schedules, the politics and drama, even the mysteries of her boss’s unexplained absences. Laura wouldn’t trade her as an assistant for anything.
She finished up her email and checked her watch. Time to put in one last glamoured visit at the Guildhouse before focusing on other matters. She closed down her computer and retrieved her overnight bag. Down in the parking garage, she stepped into the security-camera blind spot and activated the Janice glamour, walked to the SUV, and left the bag in the back. Returning to the elevator, she hit the blind spot, swapped Janice for Mariel, and went back up to InterSec.
Liam jumped up when she entered the anteroom. “You just missed Janice Crawford.”
Laura frowned as she checked the time and continued into her office. She kept up the annoyed attitude to reduce Liam’s hang-around time. “I was in a meeting I couldn’t get out of. When did she leave?”
“About twenty minutes ago,” he said from the doorway.
She pulled her chair up to the desk and started her computer. “Call her and get her back in here. If you get her voicemail, give her my work cell and tell her she’s to call immediately.”
“Got it,” he said.
Janice Crawford’s cell phone vibrated. Laura checked the number to confirm it was Liam. With that out of the way, she removed the crystal-sphere paperweight from a pile of mail and sorted through correspondence.
When the political nuances of her career as Laura Blackstone exhausted her, the intellectual challenge of Mariel Tate’s position came as a welcome relief. Mariel played corporate politics like anyone else, but the nature of her diplomatic missions were more research-oriented and in-house consultancy. She advised, and other people took the matter from there. It was nice not to have final responsibility.
She separated out a number of white papers to read at home and collected the correspondence that needed responses. The rest of the mail she organized, returned to her in-box, and placed the paperweight on top of it.
She leaned back in her chair, scrolling through email. In the middle of everything, Terryn was passing Mariel Tate an invitation to a summit meeting of defense executives next month. He had a remarkable ability to compartmentalize projects. He mentioned hard-copy correspondence he had sent, and she pulled the in-box toward her.
As she reached for the paperweight, she paused, her hand hovering an inch away from the clear crystal. She dropped her hand beside the in-box and stared. Essence accumulated with repeated contact and dissipated with the lack of it. Since her sensing ability worked at all times-was effectively always “on”-she sensed the faint trace of Mariel’s body signature on the paperweight. Too faint, though. Crystals worked as essence capacitors, and she used the Mariel persona frequently enough for there to be significant buildup on the paperweight. There wasn’t. She boosted more essence into her sensing ability to fine focus and found only enough essence from moving the crystal moments before. It should have had more. Much more.
Her eyes shot to the door to her office. Liam’s comment on the phone earlier became clear. “I put it back,” she remembered him saying. Last time she was in the office, she hadn’t forgotten taking the paperweight to her room. She hadn’t taken it at all.
She picked up the phone. “This is Mariel Tate, Suite 835. I need a security agent.”
“Is there a problem?” the dispatch asked.
“No. But there will be in a moment.” She hung up.
“Liam, I need you,” she called. She watched him come around his desk. “Close the door and have a seat.”
He smiled at her seriousness and complied. “What’s up?”