A Question of Time by Steven Lazaroff

Author:Steven Lazaroff [Lazaroff, Steven]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-10-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

Nadeau was filling out the last of his reports when the Director stepped into his office. ‘Nadeau. I have a case I need you to look at.’

Nadeau pasted an enquiring look onto his face and raised his head. ‘A case?’

The Director handed him a tablet. ‘The details are uploaded and ready for your bio print. It’s eyes only.’

Nadeau took the tablet from the director. ‘I’ll get on it right away, Monsieur le Directeur.’ Had he overdone the parade ground voice or the underling’s enthusiasm? Well, what if he had? The director was not known for his sense of humour. Nadeau’s irony would probably go straight over his head. The director left, and Nadeau scanned his print to open the page on the tablet. If it were eyes only, it would have to be handled with discretion. He wondered who had reported it, and what pull they had to get the director to give it that level of secrecy.

Well, there was one way to find out, and that was to read the damn thing.

It was not an edifying story. A dispute had arisen between two families at a famous Paris fashion house. One managing partner had accused another of financial irregularities, and the director had been instructed to assign someone to look into it. The starting point for that investigation would be a visit. Nadeau took out his phone and called for a car. His phone chirped back an estimated time of arrival of five minutes, which was more than enough time for Nadeau to grab his uniform jacket and hat and proceed to the command post’s exit. As he ran down the stairs, something flickered across the main door. Something blue. What was it? It looked like a curtain. A curtain of blue light. He knew that should ring a bell. He knew he’d heard about something just like that, and not long ago. But where? From whom?

After a quick moment, the curtain was gone, and the door looked just as it always did. Passing through it, he was greeted by a slow and steady drizzle that had not let up for weeks. The bad weather in France had been a boon for French tour operators who had quickly filled up flights to some of the warmer French colonies in North Africa and the Caribbean.

Nadeau gave a moment’s thought to his own vacation which was not far away and thought with pleasure of the opportunity to spend time on the beach of some resort, putting thoughts of his work aside for a while.

The cugnot arrived, the door opened automatically, and Nadeau stepped in and ordered the computer to take him to Place Vendôme, home to the offices of Lambregal. Broadcasting his credentials from the cugnot ensured cooperation from the traffic control lights. Nadeau rarely had to face unnecessary delays in Paris traffic, where other cars yielded automatically to his, and he was whisked quickly to his destination. If only he could enjoy this perk of office in his downtime.

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