Read The Carbon Trail Online

Authors: Catriona King

Tags: #Fiction & Literature

The Carbon Trail (5 page)

BOOK: The Carbon Trail
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“You must have been doing your new carbon allotrope work. Maybe that’s why you didn’t log-off upstairs? You just forgot.”

Mitchell nodded but his thoughts said no. If Scrabo’s computers were all on one system then his work in the suite should have shown-up on the intranet, and Devon would have seen a log-off time on his PC upstairs. It could only mean one thing; the computer in the research suite was a stand-alone, disconnected from the Net. But why would Scrabo allow that? Surely they would want a back-up of everyone’s work? Mitchell answered himself immediately. Scrabo hadn’t allowed it. Whatever research he was doing in the suite he was doing it alone.

Devon fast-forwarded the tape to four-thirty a.m. on Thursday, just when Mitchell should have been leaving the lab. Static filled the screen. Devon rewound to find out when it started. At 22:30, Jeff Mitchell was seated at his desk in the research suite’s office, and then suddenly nothing; the screen turned to static. Devon pressed fast-forward and they watched six hours of a flickering screen. Finally, at 4:30 on Thursday Mitchell reappeared, sitting behind his desk in the same position he’d been in when the screen had gone down. Two minutes later they watched as Mitchell tidied the office and turned off the computer, then the lights dimmed and he locked-up the suite for the night.

Devon clicked on the main lab screen. It showed Mitchell leaving the basement laboratory at 4:32. He’d exited the building three minutes later. Devon clicked repeatedly, searching for other views, but for six hours Jeff Mitchell was nowhere to be seen. Finally Devon scanned back to the research suite. Mitchell watched as Devon went back and forth, frustrated, comparing the views of the suite’s small office six hours apart.

Devon upped the magnification and Mitchell stared at himself on the screen, shuddering. His shirt was covered in dark patches and Mitchell knew instantly that they were blood. He’d gone from looking pristine at 22:30 to dishevelled at 4:30. What the hell had happened in between? Devon asked the same thing.

“What happened to your shirt?”

Mitchell shook his head, his mind a complete blank. He had no memory of anything on Wednesday, much less the time that he’d spent in the lab. But he was relieved; Devon had seen nothing so that meant he wouldn’t have to kill him. Devon Cantrell would never know that a faulty camera had just saved his life.

“I’ve no idea, Devon. The first thing I remember is being in the shower on Thursday morning.”

Devon leaned in, peering at the screen and Mitchell thanked God that the tape was in black and white. He decided to try a bluff.

“The stains look like coffee.”

“You’d never bring coffee into the lab, Jeff! Could it be blood? Were you injured?”

Mitchell feigned confusion.

“On Thursday morning. Did you have any injuries?”

“No, nothing.” It wasn’t a lie. He hadn’t been hurt. Whoever’d owned the blood in his shower it hadn’t been him.

Devon persisted. “Maybe you fell.”

He paused the tape and enlarged the frame still further. Mitchell’s dishevelled look certainly fitted with a fall. Devon scrolled through the other files then he stopped abruptly, throwing Mitchell an accusing look. He clicked on a frame from the research suite office, enhancing it. There it was, small but undeniable; a coffee cup was sitting beside Mitchell’s computer as he worked. His bluff had paid off!

“Shit, Jeff, you know that you can’t bring coffee into the lab!”

Mitchell nodded apologetically, grateful for the get out.

“I must have been tired and needed a pick-me-up.” He embellished on his mistake. “I obviously fell and knocked it over my shirt.”

They watched the tape in silence until the end then Devon clicked off the screen. He wandered around the main lab for five minutes and returned with a puzzled look.

“There’s no cup anywhere. You must have cleaned it up. Can you let me into the suite to check?”

Mitchell looked at him and shook his head. “I can’t remember the code.” It was true, but even if he had done he would have lied. Whatever he did in that suite Mitchell knew that he didn’t want Devon to see; he was certain the security camera inside spent a lot of time turned off.

Devon shook his head. “How long have you been forgetful like this?”

“I don’t know. I think Karen’s noticed it. She hasn’t said anything, but she looks at me sometimes like…well, you know.”

“I won’t say anything about this, Jeff, but you need to see a doctor. OK?”

Mitchell nodded then smiled, pleased. Not because he’d kept his secret, whatever it was, but because he didn’t have to kill the man in front of him. Because if Jeff Mitchell was confused about a lot of things in his life, he was absolutely clear that he would have done that.

Chapter Nine

 

Rosie Pereira stretched her arms wide and scratched herself, then she shook her head and tutted. Working with men was turning her into one, next thing she knew she’d be watching baseball and swearing at the screen. Her mind drifted back to Richie and she felt a small pang of regret at their conversation. She hadn’t meant to hurt him but he always riled her. Had done ever since they’d met in training. She knew exactly why. He made her feel vulnerable, and that was something she couldn’t afford.

She closed her eyes for a moment and pictured the first day that they’d met; Richie standing in his crisp white shirt and pressed trousers, with her dressed exactly the same, wishing she was in a pretty dress the moment he’d glanced her way. Each time she’d turned round Richie had been smiling at her, and she’d involuntarily smiled back. After that they always seemed to end up near each other; in lectures and the canteen, training and in the car-park. Meaning to go straight home to their other halves, but never quite making it beyond the gate, without ‘just a quick drink at Mac’s?’ emerging from one of their mouths.

Pereira shook her head hard, trying to wipe out the images and with them the feelings that she still had. It didn’t work. She could still remember the fullness of Richie’s lips on hers and his strong hands stroking her, unexpectedly gentle. Richie had held her as if she was delicate and could break. He’d been right. She could break and she had, into a million tiny shards of love and loss.

A single tear escaped from her eyes and slid in slow motion down her cheek, its heat burning a path. Pereira let it fall, watching it slowly in her mind and feeling it cool as it reached her neck. It fell alone. She’d already cried millions of others since the day she’d made her choice. A choice she’d known every day for the past two years that she shouldn’t have made.

Richie had been so much braver than her, so much truer. He’d always known what they had together and that even if she wouldn’t leave Joey he had to leave his wife. To stay with Dina any longer would have betrayed all three of them.

Richie was brave in every way. But she wasn’t and she’d betrayed them both. Staying in the half-life of fondness and safety her marriage offered, instead of seizing the real love that she felt for him. She’d regretted it every day, as life heaped on yet more things to tighten her chains. Each time she saw Richie she lied to him, and to herself. Full of banter and sarcasm, pushing him away with her words. Pretending that she’d chosen well, and yet every minute praying that he’d see the truth and pull her into his arms. Pull her out of her cowardice into the life that she was supposed to have with him.

Pereira dreamed for a moment longer and then dashed away the tear, half-dried now against her skin. Then she sat forward, the professional again, and scanned the street ahead. There was still nothing happening, so she sat back again to wait.

***

4.30 p.m.

 

Mitchell pressed randomly on the keys of his laptop and glanced at the clock. Four-thirty. Soon he’d have the weekend to cope with. He braced himself for the conversations ahead, where he’d hold back, delaying one beat to search for clues in Karen’s words. At least he could relax with Emmie. She knew even less about their life together than he did.

He turned his chair towards the window and scanned the street. The Goldman Sachs Tower stood opposite, casting its wealthy shadow on everything around. Thousands of glass towers shone across New York, their mesh of windows forming a rainbow. It joined a real one, caught by the falling afternoon sun. Mitchell squinted up at the clouds, searching for faces in them like a child. Images half-formed and faded as he watched. Whose face was he searching for? He barely knew his own, so how could he find someone’s that he didn’t know?

Frustration overwhelmed him suddenly and Mitchell slammed his fist down on the desk. Why couldn’t he remember things and why did he have this constant bloody headache? Why didn’t he know the people in his life, when they so obviously all knew him? And what internal homing device had led him to that café the day before, where the old woman had greeted him so warmly? A warmth that he’d felt too, even before she’d told him her name.

A brisk rap on the door jerked Mitchell back to earth and he fixed on a smile and turned. Instead of the Devon he expected to see, the brunette from the elevator was standing by the door. Mitchell caught his breath. The elevator’s lighting hadn’t done her justice. She was beautiful. Her hair flowed across her shoulders in skeins of smooth black silk, making a dark contrast to her alabaster skin. Her lips were curved and red, parted in a smile that promised everything, without a word. But it was her eyes that really told her story. They were a pure moss-green, rimmed with lashes so long that they touched their white surround. Mitchell couldn’t breathe, afraid to break the spell.

The young woman stared back at him, slipping languidly into the office and locking the door. She crossed the room without a word, until she stood so close that Mitchell could feel her warmth. He did nothing, just sat very still, paralyzed by her closeness. The woman gazed down at him, her pupils widening with each slow blink. She reached forward and stroked Mitchell’s face, then she slid onto his knee and firmly kissed his mouth.

Mitchell’s body hardened in response and he took her in his arms, returning her kiss with a passion that he’d never felt before. The feeling shocked him, not because of his lust but because he felt detached from it, as though the feeling belonged to someone else. His body reacted instinctively but his mind raced, confused. Was he really this
man? Having sex in the office, while his wife and child waited for him at home?

The woman ran her tongue across Mitchell’s lips and desire overwhelmed him. He slid his hands up her soft, pale thighs, stopping six inches from the top, then his touch changed instinctively to feather-light strokes, beating a rhythm on each inner thigh until she moaned. Mitchell slipped his fingers gently beneath the girl’s thong and traced lazy circles, until her moaning grew louder and she whispered his name. As her orgasm built Mitchell stood, and in one swift movement he’d laid her on his desk, all caution gone.

Mitchell gazed down at the woman’s firm, slim body, every inch of it smooth and un-obscured and felt his pulse start to race. He stroked her, slowly at first and then faster, until her sighs grew in volume and she called his name aloud. A moment’s caution rose and Mitchell pressed a finger to her lips, but it passed as soon as it appeared. As the girl’s body pulsed beneath him Mitchell entered her with one hard thrust and drew her higher. He moved back and forth to some silent, primal beat, until his hardness was like stone and finally he came inside her, moaning, his moment of release echoed in her green eyes.

Mitchell fell across her, spent, and after a minute they drew apart in silence, the only word said since the woman had entered the room her uttering of his name. Mitchell stared at the lithe brunette and at what they’d done and confusion overtook him. Who was she and why did this all feel so familiar? And who the hell was
he
? What sort of man fucked a woman half-an-hour before his wife collected him for home? Mitchell’s guilt threatened to overwhelm him but his satisfied lust pushed it quickly away. He felt like an observer in his own life. Part of him knowing that what he’d done was wrong, the other part smirking inwardly at his afternoon delight.

The woman dressed herself sensuously, fixing Mitchell’s eyes as she rearranged her clothes. When she finally spoke, her voice was dark and cool, with a European edge.

“Thank goodness for that. I thought you were ignoring me yesterday.”

“Who are you?”

Mitchell uttered the words before he could censor himself and immediately wished he could bite the question back. The woman’s eyes widened suspiciously and she scrutinised his face. She looked like a cat, and not a domestic one.

“Are you being funny? You know exactly who I am!”

Mitchell gathered himself and smiled, covering the fact that he didn’t know her name.

“Humour me.” He gave her a knowing smile and the brunette nodded slowly.

“Ah, OK. We’re playing a little game.” She gazed up at him. “I’m Elza Silin, Dr Mitchell. Your friendly office spy.”

She stood so close to him that their knees touched and she slid her dress provocatively up her thighs, toying with him again. Mitchell caught another glimpse of lace and felt himself throb. He reached across and stilled her hand, smoothing the dress back down and searching desperately for some memory of her from the past.

“What is your mission, little Elza?”

The woman smiled and shrugged, playing along. “Why, to keep you happy of course, Dr Mitchell. And under surveillance.” From the look in her eyes Mitchell knew that she wasn’t joking. “We can’t have our most valuable asset unhappy in his work.”

He stroked her arm, playing the game. “And what value could I possibly have to you? Such a beautiful woman must have hundreds of wealthy boyfriends.” He paused and then added pointedly. “Who aren’t married.”

Mitchell looked in her eyes for some sign of pain but there was nothing. It was sex; impure and simple. Or she was hiding her feelings well.

“But I’m here to look after you, Jeff, and to make sure you don’t change your mind about the deal.”

“And that is?”

As soon as he’d said it Mitchell knew that he’d gone too far. The question had displayed his ignorance. Elza stepped back quickly and scrutinised his face, confusion and suspicion blending to make Mitchell wary of her next words.

“You’re not playing a game! What’s going on?” She stared hard at him and her next words were a threat. “You’re backing out, you spineless bastard! If Ilya hears of this he will kill you.”

Ilya. She was working with the woman in the café! They were using this Elza to keep an eye on him. Mitchell knew that he had to act quickly and his brain ran the permutations so fast that he was shocked. Kill the girl; but that would mean disposing of her body, and security in the building was too tight. Push past her and escape; but by the sounds of it, this Ilya would soon follow. Pretend to be ill so that she forgave his lapse; no, too contrived, she’d see through it in a heartbeat. Charm her into believing that he’d been joking? The look in her eyes said that she was beyond that. No, the first line of defence was attack. It was only afterwards Mitchell realised that he’d considered murdering a woman as lightly as having a beer.

Mitchell stepped forward so quickly that Elza fell backwards. He caught her with his left hand, his reflexes lightning fast, then his voice dropped to a growl.

“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? You’re so far down the pecking order I could scrape you off my shoe and not notice. Don’t you know that I’m testing you, bitch?”

Elza Silin’s eyes widened, first in scepticism and then, as Mitchell’s grip tightened, in fear. She knew he could kill; he’d done it before.

Mitchell hissed in her ear, pressing his advantage. “This mission is too important to take anyone on trust. Now, answer the question I asked you about the deal!”

Elza winced as Mitchell tightened his grip and her eyes begged him for mercy. He released her abruptly and she fell to the floor. Mitchell could tell that she was frightened and the knowledge made him hard again. He was shocked. Now he enjoyed hurting women! What sort of a bastard was he?

“The p…process. The new work on carbon that you’ve been doing. You promised it to us. That is the deal.”

Mitchell gazed down at the young woman for a moment then he leaned forward menacingly until he was close to her face. Elza scuttled backwards towards the door, trying to widen the gap. Mitchell forced his next words out aggressively through his teeth, bluffing to cover his ignorance.

“Tell Ilya that you’ve done your part; fucked me and kept me happy. You can also tell him that when I make a deal I stick to it. Just make sure he sticks to his part.”

Mitchell turned and stared out the window, making his voice cold. “I’m tired of being spied on. I don’t want to see your whoring face again.”

Elza glared at his back and then gathered herself, exiting the office in a rush. She left Jeff Mitchell wondering what kind of animal he was, and exactly what sort of mess he was in.

BOOK: The Carbon Trail
13.76Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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