Page 14 of King’s Ransom

‘Hey, Audrey,’ I said.

My girlfriend was here.

I could tell something was wrong with Audrey right away.

For one thing, she was supposed to be in D.C.

(I know, great detective work there.)

No, it was the awkwardness of her smile that troubled me.

I’d never seen that look on her face before.

She said, ‘When your name came up in all this, the Bureau sent for me in D.C. Flew me up right away. I only got here ten minutes ago—’

‘Mr Speedman? Mr Samuel Speedman, the private detective?’ One of the other agents shoved past Audrey and positioned himself in front of me.

Tall, handsome, with a square jaw, dark eyes and perfectly parted brown hair that seemed impervious to the wind on the rooftop, he could’ve been a model for an FBI recruitment poster.

In his mid-30s, he was easily five inches taller than me.

His suit, I noticed, was fitted and clearly more expensive than the usual budget ensembles worn by FBI agents.

With the deadline fast approaching, he was obviously in a hurry, but the way he’d rudely shoved in front of Audrey had already told me something about him, something that rubbed me the wrong way.

‘That’s me,’ I said.

He looked me up and down, assessing me.

‘You’re the last of the five detectives to arrive and we’re almost at the noon deadline.’ He turned to go. ‘The building’s been evacuated and a perimeter has been set up at street level. The others are all downstairs, so come this way—’

‘Wait a second,’ I said.

He stopped.

And turned.

The glare he gave me burned with a strange mix of emotions: irritation, hostility, haste and . . . something else.

‘What?’ he said crisply.

‘Perhaps you should identify yourself first,’ I said.

He drew himself taller.

‘My name is Special Agent Trey Hooper, chief aide to the Deputy Director of the Criminal, Cyber, Response, and Services Branch of the FBI and SAIC—Special Agent in Charge—of this operation. I’ve got a law degree from Yale and I’m a sworn law enforcement officer of the United States Government and I don’t like the idea of bringing in two-bit, low-life private detectives to solve a case no matter who asked for them. Now, come this way.’

(Notice the Ivy League thing?)

He stalked off toward an elevator shack beside the helipad.

As Heidi, Bill and I followed him, Audrey fell into step beside me.

‘Sorry I couldn’t warn you I’d be here, Sam,’ she said. ‘They put us all on cell-phone lockdown. No calls or texts. This is big.’

‘Special Agent Hooper is a piece of work,’ I observed.

‘Oh, I know more about that topic than you could possibly imagine,’ Audrey said tightly. ‘Special Agent Hooper is my ex-husband.’