Free The Killing House by Chris Mooney Page A
Authors: Chris Mooney
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The pilot stood outside the cockpit door. Karim shook the man's hand and introduced Fletcher as a business associate who would be accompanying him to Alabama. The pilot didn't ask for Fletcher's name or passport, and he didn't ask to search his suitcase. He retreated inside the cockpit, shutting the door behind him.
Blocking the aisle leading to the rear of the plane was a tall, thin woman dressed in a form-fitting black jacket and a matching pencil skirt. A long, side-swept fringe of stark white hair concealed her right eye, its tips hanging like daggers across her cheekbone. All of her hair was white, the sides cut short, the back cropped. Fletcher had seen this type of haircut on a good number of young cosmopolitan women. It complemented her sharp, angular features.
She held out a hand a good arm's length away and said, 'Your coat and suitcase please.'
She was British. Her accent suggested she had been raised and educated in the Midlands - Birmingham, Fletcher suspected.
'There's no need for that,' Karim told her. 'This is Robert Pepin, an old, dear friend and colleague. This is my personal assistant, Emma White.'
Fletcher extended a hand. 'A pleasure to meet you, Miss White.'
She shook his hand and he felt the strength in her grip.
'I'm not anyone's miss,' she said, polite but firm. 'M. As in the letter.'
'Yes. Right,' Karim said. 'Now let's get -'
'I'm sure Mr Pepin won't mind a security search,' she said.
' I mind it,' Karim replied. 'Please step aside and let Mr Pepin through.'
The young woman complied but didn't hide her disapproval. Her face, stark and severe in its beauty, expressed clear Teutonic characteristics - pale, almost translucent skin and a thin but strong nose in profile. She had applied a light touch of eyeshadow and lipstick to her porcelain features, but there was nothing delicate about her.
Fletcher moved to the end of the plane and stuffed his suitcase and jacket in the overhead compartment. Knowing he had aroused Emma White's suspicions, he decided to take a seat facing the cockpit so he could keep a close eye on her.
He watched her behind his sunglasses. Emma White - M, as in the letter - reminded him of another woman he'd met several years ago, a Boston-based investigator and forensics expert named Darby McCormick.
The McCormick woman still fascinated him. Much like Emma White, Darby McCormick possessed a distinct and savage beauty. But it was the woman's fierce intellect that had drawn him, and her physical mettlebrought to mind comparisons with the legendary female Amazon warriors from Greek mythology. Fletcher wondered - and not for the first time - what it would be like to know Darby McCormick more intimately.
Karim strolled down the aisle, holding a cardboard box stuffed with pastries.
'Would you like one? Coffee?'
'No, thank you,' Fletcher said. He leaned forward in his seat, and in a low voice added: 'You neglected to mention that someone else would be on board.'
'Emma takes over the role as my shadow when Boyd is away. She takes the job quite seriously.' With a conspiratorial grin, Karim added, 'She's quite capable of handling herself.'
I'm sure she is , Fletcher thought. When the young woman offered to relieve him of his belongings, Fletcher had caught sight of fine scars along her callused palm and fingers.
'In case you forgot, Ali, there's a three-million-dollar bounty on my head.'
'You have nothing to worry about. In addition to being stubbornly loyal, M is very discreet.'
Fletcher didn't question Karim's conviction; the man had a finely tuned internal Geiger counter for such matters. Still, he marvelled at Karim's ability to trust. With the exception of Karim, Fletcher did not indulge in such sentiment. His survival depended on it.
'And she can help us,' Karim said.
'How?'
'Her knowledge of computers is ... well, frightening.She performed the data mining on the Herreras. I'll have her research this company you're going to visit, see what we can find out
The pilot stood outside the cockpit door. Karim shook the man's hand and introduced Fletcher as a business associate who would be accompanying him to Alabama. The pilot didn't ask for Fletcher's name or passport, and he didn't ask to search his suitcase. He retreated inside the cockpit, shutting the door behind him.
Blocking the aisle leading to the rear of the plane was a tall, thin woman dressed in a form-fitting black jacket and a matching pencil skirt. A long, side-swept fringe of stark white hair concealed her right eye, its tips hanging like daggers across her cheekbone. All of her hair was white, the sides cut short, the back cropped. Fletcher had seen this type of haircut on a good number of young cosmopolitan women. It complemented her sharp, angular features.
She held out a hand a good arm's length away and said, 'Your coat and suitcase please.'
She was British. Her accent suggested she had been raised and educated in the Midlands - Birmingham, Fletcher suspected.
'There's no need for that,' Karim told her. 'This is Robert Pepin, an old, dear friend and colleague. This is my personal assistant, Emma White.'
Fletcher extended a hand. 'A pleasure to meet you, Miss White.'
She shook his hand and he felt the strength in her grip.
'I'm not anyone's miss,' she said, polite but firm. 'M. As in the letter.'
'Yes. Right,' Karim said. 'Now let's get -'
'I'm sure Mr Pepin won't mind a security search,' she said.
' I mind it,' Karim replied. 'Please step aside and let Mr Pepin through.'
The young woman complied but didn't hide her disapproval. Her face, stark and severe in its beauty, expressed clear Teutonic characteristics - pale, almost translucent skin and a thin but strong nose in profile. She had applied a light touch of eyeshadow and lipstick to her porcelain features, but there was nothing delicate about her.
Fletcher moved to the end of the plane and stuffed his suitcase and jacket in the overhead compartment. Knowing he had aroused Emma White's suspicions, he decided to take a seat facing the cockpit so he could keep a close eye on her.
He watched her behind his sunglasses. Emma White - M, as in the letter - reminded him of another woman he'd met several years ago, a Boston-based investigator and forensics expert named Darby McCormick.
The McCormick woman still fascinated him. Much like Emma White, Darby McCormick possessed a distinct and savage beauty. But it was the woman's fierce intellect that had drawn him, and her physical mettlebrought to mind comparisons with the legendary female Amazon warriors from Greek mythology. Fletcher wondered - and not for the first time - what it would be like to know Darby McCormick more intimately.
Karim strolled down the aisle, holding a cardboard box stuffed with pastries.
'Would you like one? Coffee?'
'No, thank you,' Fletcher said. He leaned forward in his seat, and in a low voice added: 'You neglected to mention that someone else would be on board.'
'Emma takes over the role as my shadow when Boyd is away. She takes the job quite seriously.' With a conspiratorial grin, Karim added, 'She's quite capable of handling herself.'
I'm sure she is , Fletcher thought. When the young woman offered to relieve him of his belongings, Fletcher had caught sight of fine scars along her callused palm and fingers.
'In case you forgot, Ali, there's a three-million-dollar bounty on my head.'
'You have nothing to worry about. In addition to being stubbornly loyal, M is very discreet.'
Fletcher didn't question Karim's conviction; the man had a finely tuned internal Geiger counter for such matters. Still, he marvelled at Karim's ability to trust. With the exception of Karim, Fletcher did not indulge in such sentiment. His survival depended on it.
'And she can help us,' Karim said.
'How?'
'Her knowledge of computers is ... well, frightening.She performed the data mining on the Herreras. I'll have her research this company you're going to visit, see what we can find out