Deep Hurt - Eva Hudson Page 0,3

the next three hours she struggled to complete a report for her most recent case. The Metropolitan Police investigation into the armed mugging of an American tourist had been relatively straightforward, but writing up her assessment of their work had proved more difficult than she’d expected. She found it almost impossible to concentrate on anything other than what might be happening with another investigation that was being played out over four thousand miles away. A cursory check of the major news sites online hadn’t revealed much more than Svetlana had told her. Without hard facts, all the reporters and so-called experts could do was speculate. It was worse than no news at all.

At a quarter before twelve she reached for her cell phone and out of the corner of her eye noticed that Jennifer had risen to her feet.

“Hey,” the clerk said, scooting around her desk on the other side of the office and hurrying toward Ingrid’s, “I’m going for coffee. Can I get you anything?”

“That’d be great.” Ingrid was relieved Jennifer was going out, which meant she didn’t have to. There was no way she wanted an audience for her potentially awkward phone conversation with Mike Stiller.

“Let me guess,” the clerk said, studying Ingrid’s face carefully, “double espresso.”

“It’s that obvious I need caffeine, huh?”

Mildly embarrassed, the young clerk pushed her long, sandy-blond hair behind her ears and nodded. “If I’m not out of line mentioning it, you’ve seemed awfully quiet this morning. Is everything OK?”

“Nothing a few early nights wouldn’t fix,” Ingrid lied. She forced a cheerful smile and watched Jennifer turn on her sensible heels and leave the office. She waited another couple of minutes before picking up the phone. Jennifer wouldn’t be gone long. Ingrid hoped she’d have enough time to persuade Mike Stiller to agree to help her. Given what had happened three months ago, he might take a lot of persuading.

3

Since Ingrid had first started working at the embassy, back in December, she’d relied on intel from Mike Stiller more times than she cared to admit. As the weeks turned into months, she had discovered that when it came to the collation of information, working around the system—circumventing the strictest of Bureau protocols—was sometimes the only way to get things done. That wasn’t something she would even have considered doing before her move overseas. But so far, her new pragmatic approach seemed to be working out just fine: Mike felt indispensable and Ingrid got to see higher classified intel that her level two security clearance would normally have given her access to.

She scrolled through her contacts list for his number and hesitated when she found it. After what had happened a couple of months ago, Mike might decide he never wanted to help her again.

Ingrid’s break-up with her fiancé might make the conversation very uncomfortable. Mike was probably closer to Marshall than he was to her. Marshall may have asked him to choose sides. This was the first time she’d needed a favor from her old D.C. field office colleague since she’d ended her engagement, so there was no way of knowing if he’d agree to help her or not.

There was only one way to find out. She hit the call button and hoped for the best. Mike answered right away, no doubt eager to feel both busy and indispensable even before seven a.m. Eastern Standard Time.

“Agent Stiller—how are you this fine and pleasant August morning?” Ingrid was struggling to inject an upbeat tone into her voice.

“It’s seventy-five in the shade and humidity’s set to reach eighty-five percent by two p.m. The office air conditioning has stopped working, my iced tea has no sugar in it and I’ve got an appointment with the dental hygienist at lunchtime. So I’m just peachy.” He let out a weary sigh to emphasize the tragic nature of his situation. “Thank you for having the courtesy to inquire about my well-being, but I’m sure that’s not why you’re calling.”

“You know me so well.”

“Listen, I don’t have a lot of time.”

“I’ll be real quick.”

“I don’t just mean now. I’ve got a lot on my plate at the moment. If you need a favor, you might have to ask some other pliable schmuck.”

Mike had to have been talking to Marshall.

“You know I wouldn’t be asking if the circumstances didn’t call for your skills and expertise.” She continued to keep her tone as light as she could.

“I have a new boss. The regime here isn’t as… relaxed as it used to be.”

It seemed