The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [56]
“Your new partner, of course.”
Deirdre's jaw dropped open.
“Good day, Miss Falling Hawk,” Nakamura said as he took another sip of tea.
15.
It quickly became evident Deirdre wasn't going to get any work done that day.
After her conversation with Nakamura, she stopped by her office—the same one she had shared with Farr for the last three years. It was a dank space, with only a single iron-barred window looking out at sidewalk level. However, it was huge, which was the reason they had chosen it. Bookshelves and filing cabinets lurked in countless alcoves, and in between the two gunmetal gray desks was a battered claw-footed table which Deirdre had often used for spreading out maps, facsimiles of manuscripts, and other documents.
When she stepped through the office door, she found a workman in blue overalls just folding up a stepladder.
“I've replaced all the lightbulbs for you, Miss Falling Hawk. They were beginning to flicker. And I used natural light fluorescents. That should help make it a bit less like a dungeon in here.” A grin showed through his curly red beard. “Unless you're into that sort of thing, in which case I could switch them back.”
She smiled. “No, the lights are wonderful. Thank you, Fergus.”
Whistling, he carried his stepladder out the door. Deirdre walked around the office, exploring, and soon realized the lightbulbs weren't all that had been changed. The filing cabinets and bookshelves were empty. So were the drawers in each of the desks. All of the books, papers, notes, and drawings she and Farr had accumulated over the years were gone. But why had the Seekers taken their files?
To pick them apart, Deirdre. To analyze them and see if there was anything in them about your otherworldly connections which you hadn't mentioned.
A crushing weight filled her. It had taken years to accumulate, index, and cross-reference all of the information in those files. Now she was going to have to start over completely from scratch.
Or was she? Deirdre reached into her pocket and pulled out her new ID card, turning it over. The crimson number 7 shone like wet blood. Maybe everything she had had before was right here in her hand—everything and more.
She slipped the card back into her pocket and moved to one of the desks. There was a working phone, a stapler, a pencil holder filled with sharpened pencils, and a box of paper clips. That was all. She had left her new computer at her flat. There was nothing she could do here; she might as well go home.
On her way out she looked for Sasha, but Madeleine the receptionist said she was in a meeting. Deirdre didn't really know what Sasha did for the Seekers. She didn't conduct research or perform investigations. All Deirdre knew was that Sasha was some sort of attaché to the director of Operations. Whatever her job description was, she always seemed to know far more about what went on around here than Deirdre did. Deirdre had hoped Sasha could tell her what happened to Deirdre and Farr's files. It could wait.
“Will we see you tomorrow, Miss Falling Hawk?” Madeleine asked, glancing up from her computer.
Deirdre stepped into the elevator, then turned around. “I'll be in by nine,” she said, and the silver doors whooshed shut.
As she walked through the gate in front of the Charterhouse, she noticed a pair of technicians in white shirts huddled over the security card reader. The front of the card reader was open, and the men picked at its innards with needle-nosed pliers. The technicians spoke in annoyed voices, and Deirdre caught the words gum and tissue. She stuck her hands in her pockets and quickened her pace.
She walked along the iron fence that surrounded the Seeker complex and in her mind went over her conversation with Nakamura. Why had they assigned her a new partner? She didn't buy the line that it was simply standard procedure.
Stop it, Deirdre. Farr was the one obsessed with conspiracy theories. Nakamura said you're the senior partner,