Show Me (Thomas Prescott 4) by Nick Pirog

Author:Nick Pirog [Pirog, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Nick Pirog
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Nineteen

Lunhill headquarters was located on the outskirts of St. Louis, a little over an hour drive from Tarrin. It resembled a college campus, and not just because of the twenty activists picketing on the sidewalk in front of the Lunhill Corporation sign. They were all ages and races. They held signs and chanted.

I read a few of the placard signs as I drove past.

Protect the Land.

Protect our Farmers.

Stand against Lunhill.

No One Should Own a Patent on Mother Nature.

I am not an Experiment.

Quit Trying to Get in my Genes.

Lunhill = Evil Seed of Corporate Greed.

Geez Louise.

These guys really were hated.

I drove down a long expanse of road until I came to a sprawling building of glass and sharp angles. There were over a hundred cars in the parking lot, but I expected more considering Lunhill employed close to twenty thousand people. But then again, the company had offices all over the world.

A minute later, I pushed through the glass doors and into a wide atrium. I wasn’t surprised to see two security guards manning a metal detector. One was older and graying. The other, young with a wispy blond goatee.

They scrutinized me as I approached, my handsome mug not being one of the hundred they saw on a daily basis.

“Hey, fellas,” I said.

“You need an ID badge,” Wispy Goatee said, “or a visitor’s badge.”

“How about this badge?” I quipped.

It’s funny how people react when they realize you work for the FBI. Or had worked for the FBI. Or had stolen the badge of someone who worked for the FBI.

Both men’s backs straightened.

I handed Old Gray the badge, hoping he wouldn’t look too hard at the picture—I was a decent looking guy, but Todd Gregory had been pretty to a fault—and notice that although Gregory and I had similar hair and eyes, it wasn’t me in the picture.

After a moment, he said, “Go right on through, Agent Gregory.”

I walked through the metal detector, the light blinking green, and the guard handed back the badge.

Easy peasy.

Technically, I just committed a federal crime and possibly an even bigger ethical one. I impersonated an FBI agent. A dead one. One who would most likely be alive had a severely pissed off serial killer not been exacting his revenge against me three years earlier.

Sorry, Turd.

Anyhow, I had no doubt the security guards made a call alerting someone to my presence and I wasn’t shocked when a striking woman stepped off the elevator and headed in my direction.

She was clad in a pencil skirt and a flowing white top. An executive. She reached out her hand and said, “Welcome, Mr. Gregory. I’m Allison Daniels, head of PR.”

We shook.

“What brings you to Lunhill Corp?” she asked.

That was a good question. I didn’t want to play my hand too early so I went with, “I was in the area and just hoping for a tour.”

She scoffed, though she attempted to hide it as a cough, and said, “We don’t really do tours here.”

“Great, then I’ll be your first.”

She reached out, grabbed my elbow and attempted to turn me back toward the entrance.

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