Part 12 (2/2)
”Where would you like to start?” She had a Birmingham accent.
”Richard's room, I guess.”
”I'll see you later.” Broomhall gestured with his phone, and intricate tables and graphs of data lit up on the wallscreens. ”Let me know if there's a problem.”
But his attention was already lost in the world of corporate finance.
In the hallway, Josh shook hands with Lexa. Her grip was stronger than Broomhall's. Then she led the way upstairs, along a corridor with panelled walls and ugly expensive paintings, to a door that opened onto a ma.s.sive tidy bedroom.
”Like a big hotel suite, ain't it?” She pointed at the neat shelves. ”That's not the maids. Richard keeps everything organised himself.”
”Maids.”
”Yeah. It's a far cry from Selly Oak, where I started.”
”I was thinking the same kind of thing. Brixton, in my case.”
”Your old man a drunk, or anything like that?”
”No. Good family.”
”Then you probably had it better than young Richard, for all the old man's money.”
A Navajo rug lay on the floor. No posters on the walls. Nothing left scattered around.
”I'm just going to poke about for a bit.” He slid opena drawer. ”Christ, that's neat.”Folded underwear, squared off. Everything was right angles.
”He's a bright kid.” Lexa looked at him. ”You want me to leave you alone?”
”No, you're all right there. Is this why he was seeing the shrink? Obsessive-compulsive?”
”That wasn't it.” Lexa raised her eyebrows. ”Hoplophobia, allegedly.”
”Why allegedly?”
”How many people do you know that aren't afraid of a blade?”
”Good point.”
”You saw the weapon on Broomhall's belt?”
”Yeah. Nice hilt.”
”Any idea how many times he's duelled with it?”
Josh did, but said: ”Tell me.”
”Exactly none. But he has issued challenge, twice. Both times, to guys even less likely than him to fight. They have enough money, they can afford the fines.”
”So you think Richard's not really a weapon hater?”
”Oh, he hates them all right,” said Lexa. ”I'm just not sure it's a problem. You know Birmingham? Selly Oak and King's Heath?”
”Sure.” Josh smiled. ”Ansells Mild and pork scratchings.”
”And burglary and drugs, when I was young. Before the Blade Acts. In some ways it's better now.”
”Huh.” Josh was checking the wardrobe and cupboards. ”No sports kit.”
”Not Richard.”
Intellectual, physically soft, alone on the streets of London. Poor combination.
”So, are you done?”
In his pocket, he thumbed his phone. Wallscreen and processor stacks winked blue then shut down.
”All done,” he said.
”So that's why the old man called you in.”
”What do you mean?”
”I served in Tibet. 3 Mercian.” Lexa nodded toward the wallscreen. ”Came across quiet guys with eyes like yours, could do things like that.”
”Like what?”
”Uh-huh. You just downloaded the entire system logs. And they got firewalls, firebreaks, s.h.i.+elds. Crypto up the wazoo.”
”Is that going to be a problem?”
”Christ, no.” She grinned. ”Means you stand a chance of finding the poor little b.u.g.g.e.r.”
He parked in a multi-storey in Guildford. The hourly rate was ridiculous, double if you recharged your vehicle, but the batteries were running low. Sitting in the car, he called Petra Osbourne, directing her image to the windscreen heads-up display.
”Hey, lover.” Her image was ghostly. ”Haven't seen you for a long time.”
”Too long. Sorry.”
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