Chapter 19
Chapter nineteen
Hallie parked the car in an unnumbered slot outside the investigators’ offices and remembered to take her notebooks and tablet out of the glove compartment before getting out and stretching.
She had been waved through the checkpoint at the entrance to high city without any hesitation or second looks, and had found that almost more unsettling than anything else that had happened that day.
Once into high city, she’d been forced to concentrate on the road and the directions from the car’s navigation system.
Now she was at her destination and needed a pause.
So she stood for a moment, breathing in the fresh air and distracting herself by wondering just how many people it took to keep the vast expanse of grass looking like velvet.
No one she knew had manicured lawns or patches of grass.
Gardens in low city were either used as dumping grounds for old equipment or for growing herbs, fruits or vegetables.
A few people were lucky enough to have room to keep chickens as well, but Hallie didn’t think chickens let grass survive long enough to grow green and vibrant.
Shaking her head at her tangled thoughts, and wondering if she should have stopped somewhere on the way here for some lunch, always assuming that she could find something as mundane as a takeaway shop in high city, she headed into the building by the main doors, which she hadn’t used before.
The reception area had a high ceiling, open to a glass section of roof several storeys above, giving the impression of space and light.
At the far side, tucked under a sloping wall that provided some shade from any sun, there was a deceptively simple reception desk that was at least as long as the car Hallie had just parked.
The front of the desk looked as if it had been made of a single stretch of pale wood, the continuous grain gleaming faintly.
It reminded Hallie of the sort of understated and extremely expensive elegance she’d seen in Zurine’s shop earlier.
The front of the desk alone would have taken a master craftsman to make and would cost more than any person in low city made in a year.
There was a woman seated behind the reception desk wearing what looked like a black, long-sleeved jumper.
Although she was hochlen, she did bear some fine lines on her face suggesting she was at least thirty or more years older than Hallie, her dark hair coiled in a loose bun at the nape of her neck, a crease between her brows as she stared at her screen.
She looked up as Hallie came in and the frown vanished into an unexpectedly warm smile which matched the welcome in her voice.
“Good afternoon. You must be Miss Talbot. The director let me know to expect you.” The woman opened a drawer and pulled out a white envelope.
“I’ve got your access card here. There’s a lanyard, too.
Most people find it easier to wear the cards around their necks.
” The woman hooked a finger under the black ribbon around her own neck.
At the end of it was a clear plastic case holding a white keycard.
“There’s also a note in there of your access number which you’ll need for the keypads. ”
“Thank you.” Hallie took the white envelope and was aware of an impulse to turn and head back out into the weak sunshine. She’d never had to deal with keycards and access codes before. What if she broke one of the doors?
“Is there anything else I can do for you just now?” the woman asked.
“Ah. I don’t … Well, is there a vending machine in the building? I just realised I haven’t had lunch,” Hallie explained, heat rising in her face.
“Oh, absolutely. There’s not a machine as such, but there’s a break room for all staff members.
There are sandwiches and snacks as well as coffee and soft drinks.
Everyone is free to help themselves. It’s restocked at least once a day.
Come, I’ll show you and get you pointed in the right direction.
” The woman got to her feet, and Hallie saw that the jumper was in fact a knitted dress that fell to just above her knees.
The outfit was finished off by some kind of mesh covering on her legs and gleaming black shoes with high heels.
Hallie had to stop herself from staring.
She knew that was the kind of outfit that office workers in midtown wore, but Hallie couldn’t help think that the receptionist would never be able to chase down a fugitive in those heels.
“That’s great, thank you. Apologies, I don’t know your name?” Hallie asked, falling into step beside the receptionist’s surprisingly brisk steps as she came around the desk and made her way through the double doors next to the desk, using her key card to let them in.
“I am Blanchefleur Horton. I know, Blanchefleur? I am not sure what my parents were thinking. Most people call me Blanche.”
“That is lovely,” Hallie said involuntarily. She had often thought that some hochlen names were a mouthful, and some were wonderfully exotic. Blanchefleur sat somewhere in the middle between the two.
“Well, thank you.” Blanche stopped next to a door with a frosted glass panel and the label Staff Room on the wall beside it.
She pushed open the door. “Here you are. Help yourself. The director wanted you to head to the conference room after that. It’s just along that corridor there, and you can access it by either of the doors on the left. ”
“Thank you,” Hallie said, hoping she would remember all the information Blanche was providing.
“Oh, one thing, no food is allowed in the conference room without the director’s permission.
Not after one of the junior agents spilled tomato pasta sauce over some of the directors’ papers.
The director also doesn’t want any of the papers taken out, so it all needs to be studied in there.
But there are some takeaway cups and bottled water.
As long as the cover or top is on, those are fine in the conference room. ”
“Thank you,” Hallie said again, glad to have that information before she had followed her first impulse, which was to carry her lunch into the room and start reading while she ate.
“Let me know if you need anything else, and welcome to the team,” Blanche said with another warm smile, then headed off back along the corridor with her brisk strides.
Hallie moved fully into the staff room and let the door close behind her, taking in the space with wide eyes.
To her, it looked more like a restaurant than a break room.
There were semi-circular booths with comfortable cushioned seats along one side of the room, most of the rest of the floor taken up with dining tables of various sizes with chairs around them.
A long counter ran the length of the back wall, piled high with clear plastic containers full of food.
Sandwiches. Muffins. Fruit, some of it whole and some of it ready-prepared in covered dishes.
And a tall fridge with not just bottled water but cans of fizzy drinks, and next to all that a coffee machine that would have made a high-end restaurant owner green with envy.
More than a little intimidated by the coffee machine, Hallie found a plate and helped herself to a sandwich, dish of fruit and a bottle of water, heading to one of the tables at the side of the room.
She was still moving slowly, body weighed down with the aftermath of magic use.
She needed to refuel before she was going to be of any use in reviewing the papers that the director’s team had assembled.
Holding her sandwich in one hand, she opened her notebook and started writing down an account of her meeting with Zurine. She knew that both the director and Girard would want a report. She’d add it onto the tablet later, but for now it was more helpful to her to write it out.
She’d just reached the point where Zurine had disclosed her relationship to Manju when the door to the staff room opened and Girard came in.
“Are you alright?” he asked immediately, crossing the room to stand near her, concern on his face as he looked at her.
“I’m fine, yes. Why?” Hallie asked, wondering what she’d missed.
“Blanche said you only got here a few minutes ago. Did you get lost on the way?” Girard asked, concern vanishing into a lighter note. Girard would never get lost as long as he knew what his target was.
“Not exactly,” Hallie said, realising she’d finished the sandwich and fruit without noticing, and most of the water. “I had a chat with Zurine.”
“Really?” Girard’s lightness was gone as he focused on her. “You’re sure you’re alright?”
“Fine, yes, really. I needed some food, and actually some coffee, too, but I didn’t know where to start with that,” Hallie told him, waving a hand at the machine.
“I was just writing up some notes from Zurine while it was still fresh in my mind. I was sure you and the director would want to hear about it.”
“Yes. He’ll be here in a minute so you can tell us both at the same time. I can get the coffee going. The machine is intimidating for the first couple of goes. Black coffee, right?” Girard asked, heading across to the shining chrome and red machine.
“Yes, please. Let me just finish up this note,” Hallie said, and turned back to the page, making quick work of the rest of the conversation she’d had with Zurine.
She had already made sure that the unregistered phone had a full battery and network signal, and had then stowed it in a jacket pocket so it would be in easy reach.
By the time Girard had made three mugs of coffee and grabbed some muffins from the counter, the director had come into the room. Peredur looked more irritated than tired. He joined Girard and Hallie at the table, accepting the coffee Girard handed to him, then frowning across at Hallie.
“Any progress?” Peredur asked her.