An Assassin’s Holiday by Dirk Greyson Read Free Book Online Page B

and distant. When we’re done, I follow him out, set the alarms, and lock the apartment tighter than Fort Knox. We ride down in the elevator in silence and get straight into a waiting cab for the relatively short drive through the city streets, passing sidewalks clogged with holiday shoppers and office workers alike. When we pull up in front of his building, I let Robin out and then follow him inside. I know the security systems of places like this, and after checking where the cameras are placed, I figure out the potential blind spots and angles to hide myself in so nothing meaningful is captured.
    “My office is on the twelfth floor,” Robin tells me as we reach the elevators and get inside. I can feel his nerves ramping up, and I rest my hand on his shoulder.
    “Everything is going to be fine. I’ll see to it that your boss makes things right, one way or another.”
    “I don’t want you to….” Robin pauses. “You know.” He turns away, unable to say the words. That tells me all I need to know, because if he can’t even bring himself to say what I may have to do, there’s no way he could actually bear to see it, or listen to a threat to someone’s life.
    I smile. “I promise not to ‘you know’ unless it comes to that. However, if it does, don’t think for a second that I’ll hesitate. I can’t afford it, and neither can you. Remember, it seems your boss tried to set you up for his misdeeds. I intend to find out the truth and then make him pay—one way or another.” I don’t want to talk about this any longer, especially as we get closer to his floor. Robin’s nerves aren’t going away, and I don’t want him acting too suspiciously. I grow quiet and stand near him, just touching his back to try to steady him—and because I need some connection between us.
    When the doors slide open, I step out after him, taking in the rows and rows of dull gray cubicles, broken up with a few strings of Christmas lights that hang from the top of the cubicle walls. I turn to Robin and then back to the room, wondering how he could possibly fit in here. Robin has life and energy. Even now, as nervous as he is, there’s a shine in his eyes. Even I can feel this place trying to suck away any joy or happiness, and those concepts were virtually strangers to me up until yesterday.
    “His office is right over here,” Robin tells me in a shaky voice. He points and I nod, seeing the door. “He probably hasn’t come in yet.”
    “Perfect. You go make me a copy of this and then put the original somewhere very safe.” I hand him the list of transactions. “Then go to your desk and keep your head down. Let me do what I do best.”
    “We’re supposed to stay with our guests.” Robin shifts from foot to foot. This fucking boss of his must be something else. After a few seconds, he scurries to the copy machine and returns with the papers.
    I take the copy and hand him back the original. “Does he always make you this nervous?” I whisper, and Robin nods once. I look around the room again, and even though many of the cubicles are occupied, the few conversations I hear are quick and very hushed. Even phones are answered quickly and in quiet tones, like the hammer of God might come down if anyone made a sound. “Is it always this quiet?” Robin doesn’t answer. “Because no one wants to be a target of his attention?”
    Robin nods, and I turn as the door opens. I see Robin go pale as he watches a man, slightly short, in a rich, dark suit—tailored, I’m sure—stride over to where we’re standing as though he owns the entire world around him.
    “Robin, why aren’t you at your desk working?” The tone brooks no argument, and Robin tenses.
    “Because he brought me in to speak with you,” I answer, drawing myself up to my full height.
    “Do you have an appointment?” The tone of self-importance makes me grind my teeth. Not so much that he’s using that tone with me—I couldn’t care less—but I get the idea