“I’m looking for Mark Vincent’s office.”
“And you are?”
“Theo Bascopolis.”
“Wait one second, please.” He went to his station, off in a corner, which was why I hadn’t noticed it, and picked up a sheaf of papers. After flipping through them, he looked back at me. “I’m sorry. Your name isn’t on the list.”
List? “Uh…could you call his office and ask him to see me? I know he’s here; he’s supposed to see one of the men who work under him.”
He raised an eyebrow. “It’s not a smart idea to disturb Mr. Vincent; he doesn’t like it.”
“Please? I’m a friend of his.”
He looked a little surprised. “Mr. Vincent has friends?” He cleared his throat. “Yes, right, just a second.” He took a phone from his belt and pressed a series of numbers. “You said your name is Bascopolis?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Vincent. This is Sanford. Sorry to bother you, sir. I have someone down here who wants to see you.”…”No, I know that, sir, but he says he’s a friend of yours.”…”Bascopolis, sir.” There was a brief pause. “Yes, sir. I’ll send him up.” He disconnected the call and placed the phone on his desk. “I’ll have to search you.”
“For?”
“Listening devices, recording devices, weapons.” He looked bored. “You understand.”
“Uh…okay.” I held my arms out, and he patted me down—efficient, thorough, and impersonal, even when he ran his hand up my inner thigh.
He picked up his phone and punched in another number. “Young, I’m sending someone up for Mr. Vincent.”…”Yes. Bascopolis.”…”Okay, thanks.” He hung up and nodded at me. “Take that second elevator to the right. Mr. Vincent is on seven. Security will meet you and escort you to his office.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sir.”
The elevator doors opened almost as soon as I touched the button, and I stepped inside and pushed seven. The elevator smoothly began its upward journey.
I worried the cuticle of my other thumb. Would Wills be pissed that I’d followed him? Would Vince be pissed at Wills because I’d turned up here?
There was a ding, the elevator settled to a stop, and a second later the door slid open. Waiting there was a man whose Asian heritage was obvious in the shape of his eyes. He was wearing a blazer and slacks similar to Sanford’s.
“You are Mr. Bascopolis?”
“Yes.”
He gestured for me to stand to the side. “I must check you for weapons.”
“Sanford already did.”
He shrugged and set about frisking me anyway, and I sighed and stood there with my arms extended. Talk about a paranoid company.
While he did that, two men wearing suits very similar to the ones my lover wore approached the elevator. I recognized one as Howard, whose picture I’d seen in the company newsletter and who’d greeted Wills at the Bee’s Knees on Valentine’s Day.
“You’re not a senior agent,” his companion sneered at him. “What do you know about it?”
“I may be junior to you, Browne, but I know you’ve lost this one.” Howard’s eyes narrowed as he saw the security man and me and realized we must have overheard his words.
Browne, on the other hand, couldn’t have cared less and dismissed us with barely a glance. “Max is French. He wasn’t born yesterday, and he knows which way the wind blows.” He jabbed the elevator button repeatedly, his irritation evident, and tapped his foot, waiting for the door to open. “If I wanted him back, all I’d have to do is crook my little finger.”
“You mean the one you lost?
I hadn’t noticed Browne’s pinky finger was missing, but now I did, and I looked away. That didn’t stop me from listening to what they were saying.
“I wouldn’t have lost it if it hadn’t been for him.”
“No, you’d be dead. I’m telling you—”
“No. I’m telling you. I could take him away from Schmidt just like that.” And he snapped his fingers.
“You think so?”
“Sure. Max risked his life for me. He wouldn’t have done that if he didn’t have feelings for me.”
“And you thanked him for that by refusing to commit.”
“Committing is for lunatics. You don’t see Vincent doing that, do you?”
“What Mr. Vincent does is none of my business.”
“Just like what I do is none of your business either. You should be worrying about your spin doctor.”
“He’s not a spin doctor, but Alex and I are okay.”
“Right,” Browne scoffed. “That’s why he was on his knees under his boss’s desk.”
“Fuck you.” The elevator arrived and they entered it. “You’ve lost Max, and y’know what? It serves you right.” Howard glanced at the security man again, and the grim expression in his eyes lightened a bit. “You stay like that, Young, he’d gonna expect at least dinner.”
Intrigued by their conversation, I hadn’t been paying much attention to the security man. Apparently just as intrigued, he’d neglected to remove his hand from between my legs.