Run Girl: Ingrid Skyberg FBI Thrillers Prequel Novella by Eva Hudson Read Free Book Online

back.” He pulled the strap over his head and showed Angelis the screen. Then he scrolled through the images, hitting the delete button for each of them.
    “There,” Angelis said, when the process was over, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”
    “You do realize your actions have only served to reinforce my hunch?” the reporter said.
    “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Angelis grabbed Ingrid’s arm again. She was getting a little tired of it.
    “If you hadn’t overreacted like that, I might have decided hanging around the embassy had been a waste of time—freezing off my whatnots in the sleeting wind for no good reason.” She thrust out her hand at Ingrid. “Angela Tate, Senior Political Editor at the Evening News . I expect we’ll meet again.”
    Angelis practically dragged Ingrid away across the square. The only thing that stopped her yanking her arm away from him again was the photo opportunity it might give the photographer. Angelis didn’t speak again until they’d reached the other side of Grosvenor Square. “Jesus Christ that woman doesn’t let up.”
    “You know her?”
    “Only by reputation. Once she sinks her teeth into a story, she won’t let go until she’s made it onto the front page.”
    Great . Ingrid hoped they didn’t bump into Tate again.
    When they finally reached Angelis’ motorcycle, Ingrid discovered it was a classic old Ducati. Immediately she was envious. She had a Harley at home, and was so fiercely loyal to the company she’d even bought shares in it. But there was something about the curve and the line of these Italian bikes that she’d admired for as long as she’d been riding.
    “Impressed?”
    “Not too bad.”
    He smiled at her and unlocked a large storage box on the back of the bike. He handed her a shiny white helmet with a tinted visor.
    “So, imagine, if you can, that you’re an eighteen-year-old American, a stranger in London, about to meet your online ‘lover’ in the flesh for the first time—”
    “We don’t know that—maybe they’ve met before.”
    “It’s her first trip to Europe and, according to US Homeland Security, he’s never been to America.” He shoved his motorcycle helmet over his extravagant quiff. “If we assume the two lovebirds are holed up together somewhere, where do we start looking?”
    “You’ve checked out his home?”
    “He lives in halls. Not the most salubrious location to impress a girl.”
    “What about his folks’ place?”
    “We’ve had their house under surveillance for a couple of hours. There’s been no sign of him. Besides, he wouldn’t go somewhere so obvious.”
    “Would he even expect anyone would be looking?”
    “He might not, but she would.”
    “Maybe they’ve eloped—isn’t there some place in Scotland where people do that?”
    “Elopement? My, Agent Skyberg, I didn’t have you pegged as a romantic.”
    “I didn’t realize you’d judged me already.”
    “Oh yes. The moment I first saw you.”

10
    They checked in with the registrar’s office at Imperial College in South Kensington, and headed straight to the math department of the 19 th century college campus, assured by the clerk in the office that the student’s friends were just finishing up a lecture on vector calculus.
    “Seems he’s quite a geek,” Angelis commented, mild disgust in his tone.
    “Nothing wrong with that.”
    “Try telling that to the unfortunate individuals who have been afflicted with an obsession with Star Trek and The Hobbit.”
    “It’s not a disease.” Ingrid noticed the unexpected passion in her voice only as the words left her mouth.
    “Do I detect an element of defensiveness, agent? Surely you don’t expect me to believe you were ever a bespectacled swot?”
    Ingrid chose not to answer. Instead she said, “What’s our cover story with the students here?”
    “Same as it was with the registrar’s office. An American girl is missing and the embassy—at the behest of her