The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [118]
The Merry Executioner was comforting, though it felt strange to be there with someone other than Farr. Deirdre had steak-and-kidney pie, and Anders got a salad. She had never suspected they served green leafy things in this place, but Anders's salad was large and fresh-looking.
Determined to be a bad influence, she made him get a second pint to keep her company, and as they sipped them she listened to his stories of growing up in Kenya, working in the coffee fields as a boy. Her favorite story was one he told about the day a troupe of monkeys got into one of the warehouses. She could only imagine the chaos wrought by a dozen caffeine-hyped primates.
“Tell me one thing,” Deirdre said. “If Kenya is so wonderful, why leave it to join the Seekers?”
Anders quaffed the last of his beer. “We'd better get back to it, hadn't we?”
He rose and headed out the door, moving so quickly she was forced to jog to keep up. By the time they walked down the corridor to their office, she was panting for breath.
“I'm in worse shape than I—”
Anders held up a hand, cutting her off. She gave him a puzzled glance. He nodded toward the door of their office, then she saw it: The door was cracked open an inch.
Who would have a key to their office? Nakamura, she supposed. And Fergus and Madeleine, of course. Perhaps the receptionist had needed some form or requisition one of them had forgotten about and had let herself in. Deirdre would ask her about it when—
Anders reached inside his suit jacket and pulled out a sleek pistol. He pressed his back to the wall and peered through the gap in the door, the pistol next to his cheek. Deirdre stared. What was Anders doing with a gun? Agents were forbidden by Seeker law to carry weapons. That's why they used security guards on dangerous missions.
Anders nudged open the door. He slipped through with a fluid motion, sweeping the gun left, toward the room's nearest corner. Then he opened the door wider, turned his back to the corner he had just examined, and moved farther into the office.
Deirdre watched from her position by the door. Despite his bulk, Anders moved with a leonine stealth, sweeping with the pistol, always keeping his back toward a part of the room he had already cleared. Finally, he lowered the gun.
“Whoever was in here, he's gone now.”
Deirdre approached and gave him a critical look. “Not many Seekers I know are that handy with a gun. Or know exactly how to clear a room.”
Anders tucked the pistol back into his jacket, a guilty light in his blue eyes. “Crikey, I thought I could keep it a secret longer than two days.”
Deirdre crossed her arms. “Who are you really?”
“Now, now, Deirdre. They told me that to be a Seeker, I'd have to work on my deductive reasoning skills. Haven't you gotten it yet?”
Even as he said this, she did. “You're not a Seeker agent. You're a security guard.”
He put his hands in his pockets, looking suddenly boyish. “Well, you're almost right. For ten years, I did work security for the Seekers. But security doesn't get to ask questions. You're just there to take a bullet if Duratek or some other unfriendly type decides to start shooting. But I did have questions—so many of them. I couldn't just stand by and watch anymore.”
Anders moved to his desk. “A few months ago, I finally got up the nerve to talk to Nakamura. At first he didn't take me seriously, but I kept after him. He finally gave me an exam—some kind of logic test—and I suppose he thought I'd fail it, and that would be the last of me.”
He laughed. “It turns out I pretty well aced the test. I guess it takes a bit more brains to work security than most people think. So Nakamura admitted me as a journeyman agent. Only provisionally, though. He said he was going to put me with one of his best agents, and that after three months it was going to be up to her whether I got to stay or not.” He looked at her. “I suppose that's you, mate.”
Deirdre crossed her arms. It was a good story. Almost too good. It provided a neat way to keep a security guard close to her when normally she would have rejected