The Nice Guy and the Devil: Action thriller with adventure, twists, and double-crosses (Cain Book 2) by Tom Trott

Author:Tom Trott [Trott, Tom]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-05-04T16:00:00+00:00

Twenty-Eight

The phone on the Director’s desk did not ring. That feature had been disabled at his insistence. Instead, a red light blinked incessantly to tell him there was a call waiting. This was designed to stop the phone interrupting meetings, or just his train of thought. His PA could speak over the intercom if he wasn’t answering an important call, but she went home hours ago.

His job this evening was to wait. Wait in his office until he was contacted. Until the powers that be got their house in order and realised they needed him. But his own house was in disarray tonight: they still hadn’t found Root, she had vanished from the face of the earth. And now he couldn’t track down Patrice either. He had ordered him to find Root, and he had gone missing himself. What were the two of them up to? Were they working together? Why were they keeping him in the dark?

He fiddled with Iggy-Pig in his left hand. Most days he was too busy to think about his son, but the office was silent and the night quiet, and his thoughts kept gravitating towards him. With his right hand, he was rubbing antiseptic gel into the big ulcer on his gum. It was just as much of a habit as the stressed chewing and grinding of teeth that gave him the ulcers. When he swivelled back from staring over the black river, he noticed the red light on his phone and pressed the speaker button.

‘O’Meara,’ he answered bluntly.

‘Please hold for the President.’

He snatched up the receiver. Which president? The voice had been French, hadn’t it? Surely it was the French President, not the American President, or Canadian. Yes, the voice had been in French, hadn’t it?

The receiver clicked.

‘Bon soir, Orson.’

‘Monsieur Président.’

‘I’m glad you’re still there.’

The Director checked his watch. ‘It’s late, sir, you’re still working?’

‘Actually, I’m on holiday.’

‘Oh, of course.’

He struggled to remember the news he had seen a couple of days ago, the President had gone to his official retreat, a medieval fort on an islet off the Côte d’Azur.

‘You’re at Brégançon, right? Are you having a good time?’

‘Not really, no.’

The Director winced. Of course, he wasn’t, he had to be getting updates on the shooting, he must have issued a statement already. Tomorrow he would fly to Nice, then visit Saint Paul de Vence.

‘I’m sorry,’ the Director said.

There was a beat of silence on the other end, and when the President spoke again his voice was quiet.

‘Orson, who’s on your end of this call?’

‘Just me, sir.’

‘No secretary?’

‘She went home, she has a family. Do you—’

‘No, it’s good, it’s just that...’ he trailed off. ‘I need to chat to you candidly, can we do that?’

‘Of course.’

‘This shooting, this thing outside Nice, you know about it?’

The Director scoffed. ‘Of course.’

‘Do you know about all of it?’

‘I’m not sure what you mean.’

The President’s voice lowered even further. ‘The abduction.’

‘What abduction?’

‘One of the Americans, the groom at the wedding, they grabbed him.’

The Director didn’t know what to say.

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