The Informationist: A Thriller by Taylor Stevens Read Free Book Online

her own, and I really did not have a lot of say in the matter.
    “Emily is a tiny girl and soft-spoken, but she has a very determined personality. When she wanted something she found a way to get it, and this was no exception.
    “As I’m sure you’ve read in the file, shortly before Emily was scheduled to travel to Europe, she disappeared. It’s been four years now, Michael.” Burbank’s voice cracked. He stopped and caught his breath, and after a long silence began again. “Between the private investigators and security experts, I have spent a small fortune. I have been through hell trying to deal with government agencies that know nothing.” He paused again, his breathing deep and measured. “Honestly,” he continued, “I have little hope of finding her alive after all this time. But I do want to understand what happened, to know if there is any way that I can make wrongs right, to right them on her behalf.” A sense of heaviness filled the room. “I need to find her, Michael.”
    Munroe waited and then said, “I’m sorry that you’ve had to go through this.” She spoke slowly, mirroring Burbank’s pattern of speech and choosing words that would convey meaning without causing pain. “I do understand the agony of losing someone you love for reasons that make absolutely no sense. But what I don’t understand is why you want to hire me. I don’t do this. I don’t travel the world trying to find missing people and I don’t think I can help you.”
    “No, you don’t find missing people.” Burbank sighed. “But you do have the skill set to survive and blend in with any culture that you come into contact with. Even more, you know how to ask the right questions of the right people to get the answers you need.” He pulled a folder from his desk and slid it to her.
    It was nearly an inch thick, a thorough encapsulation of the past nine years of her life. With an air of indifference, Munroe leafed through the pages. After the documents came the photos: of her family, of her on each of the three Ducatis she had owned, of Logan’s shop, of Logan and his then boyfriend, and several from college that she wished had never been taken. Munroe stopped when she came to a high-resolution blowup—a still lifted from Internet footage of one of the many BASE jumps she’d made at Kjerag in Norway. The bastard had been meticulous. Medical records, school records, and her driving record with its long list of speeding tickets. The file included conversations and details recounted by people who knew her when she had just entered the country. But except for a few notations on her childhood, prior to her arrival in the United States, the file had nothing. The way it should be.
    Munroe tossed the file on the desk. “You get a B-plus on your homework assignment,” she said with a yawn. “I hope you’re not expecting that to be some form of blackmail to convince me to take the case, because there’s nothing in there that bothers me.”
    “Blackmail? Goodness no,” he said. “I have nothing to gain from forcing you into a job you don’t want to take—surely the results would be less than ideal. No, Michael, I had that file put together so I would have a thorough understanding of what you were capable of. I also wanted you to know that I had done my research before presenting the offer I am about to make.”
    Munroe said nothing, and the room went silent. When it was apparentthat Burbank was waiting for a reaction or an indication of interest, she yawned again and slid deeper into the chair, resting her head on the back of it and stretching her legs out in front.
    Burbank clasped his hands together and leaned forward on the desk. “I’m prepared to offer you a contract of two and a half million dollars as a final attempt to locate my daughter.”
    She tilted her head to the side, raised an eyebrow, and continued to say nothing.
    “Michael, I need closure. I cannot sit around day after day for the rest of my life