“I hope there’s never a fire,” he heard Kris whisper.
“You can’t use a lift in a fire,” Bjorn reminded him. “We’d go out onto the roof and wait for a ‘copter.”
The lift door slid open, and Ishmael stepped inside, tugging Kris along with him. Bjorn gave him a nod.
“But how do we get onto the roof?”
“There’s a door in my office.” Ishmael did not elaborate, knowing the boy would never find it unless he were shown. The door was on the wall next to a hidden panic room, which he didn’t need to know about yet.
“Oh.”
The lift came to a halt on the next floor, sliding open to reveal another door made of solid oak. This one was a reclamation piece, the patina of age perfectly suited to the Rennie McIntosh leaded glass inset. He nodded to Ezra who was standing outside the door with Joe.
Ezra held the door open for Ishmael and Kris. As they entered the outer office, Ollie looked up. “Good morning, sir,” he said as if it wasn’t nearly lunchtime already. “I’ve cancelled your afternoon appointments as requested. Father says he will have the new work contract here by six.”
That was too late in the evening to get it to his contact. Tomorrow, then. He waved a dismissive hand at Ollie. “Tell him as long as it’s here in my hand by nine tomorrow morning.”
“I will, sir. The requested applications are on your desk, and I had a cushion brought for Kris.”
“Thank you,” he said, striding to his office, still holding Kris’ hand.
“Should I have lunch brought in?”
“Yes, please. We’ll have to work straight through to get caught up.”
Ezra chuckled. “Straight through and flat out at that.”
“Mmm,” he agreed, releasing Kris’ hand and pulling out his chair to sit down. A cushion matching the one upstairs sat to his left, next to the drinks cabinet. Kris sank down on it as if he had been doing it for years. Ishmael picked up half of the files on his desk and handed them to Kris. “There, look through these applications. Look for relevant bar experience. If they seem to have management experience, put them aside.”
“So, three stacks. No experience, qualified bartenders, and bar managers.”
“Yes.” With that handed off, he and Ezra could get down to more pressing concerns.
“All right, let’s start with your report..”
“Well, I have just come into possession of some rather disturbing news regarding Sean. It seems that he may have been working for Tynesdale group.”
Ishmael’s lips set into a grim line. “Go on.”
“Sources at the met informed us that investigators noticed fluid under his car and they discovered someone had cut his brake lines. Right now they are looking at his ex. She was quite angry at him, and she works as a mechanic at her uncle’s garage. Now, they could be right, and it was just her out for revenge. But get this, her uncle is Freddie Markwell, and he’s second cousins with Victor Tynesdale. Victor’s Liminal Events productions have been hosting pop up bars and restaurants as well as club party nights, all of them with planning permission with his name on them.”
“Where the stolen booze and the E could be easily distributed.” Ishmael drummed his fingers against the top of his desk. “Anything else?”
“The back door incident was caused by twenty-five-year-old Armin Harcourt. He came in as a guest of Paula D’Arcy but ditched her for free drinks and a quick shag in the storeroom before slipping out the back door. Apparently, he thought the door was a staff entrance that would gain him access to Deluxious’ kitchen where he could score some free food. We’ve banned him from all Lux premises and he wired the requested funds for damages once our legal missive was couriered over.”
Ishmael wasn’t surprised to hear that. Richard Mwangi employed his own couriers and they were all ex-Special Forces.
“And,” Ezra added, “Ms. D’Arcy has been informed she has a strike against her for not keeping better track of her guest.”
“Good. Well, then, we just need to go over Kris’ security arrangements.”
