The Will Of The People (Conspiracy Trilogy Book 1) by Christopher Read Read Free Book Online Page A

some all-singing
app would have been standard issue in your line of work.” She took
out some of her irritation on the filing cabinet, wrenching open
the top drawer and extracting a street map. “With the agency’s
compliments. Or was this just an excuse to annoy me further?”
    Anderson took
the proffered map, gaze holding hers. “I didn’t create a very good
impression the other day and I owe you an apology for my rudeness.
Perhaps we could start again?”
    “Apology
accepted,” Charlotte replied without enthusiasm. “Now, if there’s
nothing else?”
    The smile
returned, “Lunch?”
    Charlotte knew
she should have expected as much, but the audacity of the offer
still took her by surprise. A curt and unladylike response formed
on her lips, then something stopped her: Anderson had tried to make
up for his initial blunder and her own rudeness had now far
exceeded his.
    “Thank you, Mr
Anderson, but no; another millennium perhaps. I too must apologise
for doubting that Adam Devereau even existed; my mother appreciated
your visit and said you were very... considerate, I think was the
word.”
    “She’s a
lovely lady,” Anderson said, “and anyone else would probably have
told me to get lost, so I tried to be on my best behaviour.”
    “That must
have been very stressful, for you. I just hope you’re as
considerate when it comes to putting some sensational spin on my
father’s death.” Charlotte’s brain kept sending the message ‘be
polite’ but her mouth seemed unable to heed the advice.
    “I’d be happy
for your mother to vet any article before it gets to print, if that
would help.”
    “That would be
appreciated, Mr Anderson; thank you… Mum told me of your interest
in Darren Westrope; sometimes people do just have unfortunate
accidents.”
    “Of course
they do. Professional curiosity can have its annoying side and I
accept I’m probably being over-dramatic.”
    “Professional
curiosity to some, nosy interference to others. I’m sorry, Mr
Anderson, but I must get on. Try not to litter Boston’s streets
with our map; it doesn’t go down well.”
    “Of course,”
Anderson said. He made to leave, pausing just short of the door
before turning back to face Charlotte. “It’s Michael, by the way,
or Mike. And thanks for the map, Miss Saunders; in some respects
I’m rather old-fashioned and I really do have places to visit.”
    Charlotte
couldn’t help but return his broad smile. “In answer to a previous
question; it’s Charlie to a select few and most definitely not –
under any circumstances – Lottie.”
    * * *
    To Anderson’s
eyes and ears, Boston was something of an enigma. His confusion had
started once he had reached the outskirts and read some of the shop
signs, only to increase when he heard the languages being spoken in
the town centre: mostly Polish, but also Portuguese, even perhaps
Russian and Romanian. In terms of a cosmopolitan mix, this was more
like a major city than what he had imagined was a sleepy
Lincolnshire town.
    It was a
thought he put on hold as a text came through from Devereau,
confirming that he wouldn’t be back from New York until the
Wednesday and detailing a job in Bristol. Anderson kept his reply
deliberately vague, merely stating that he was pursuing a new lead
and he needed two more days.
    Two more days – time enough to
satisfy his own conscience and feel he’d done his best. He was
tentatively assuming Saunders and Westrope were somehow working
together, but he had no supporting evidence and no idea what they
might actually be working on. It was simple intuition, backed up by
a mix of conjecture and optimism. Saunders wasn’t stupid, if there
had been something fishy going on at Erdenheim or with McDowell, he
would have called the police. And what better way to draw attention
than by murdering two people. Despite every objection common-sense
threw at Anderson, he couldn’t just drop it, and his two-day
deadline seemed a fair