Free Bad Grace (Watcher Chronicles Book 1) by N.P. Martin Page A

help if you’re available.”
    “Say no more, Swanson. Just let me know when and where.”
    “Tonight,” Frank said. “The Southside.”
    Jack laughed again. “Jesus, give a guy a chance to prepare.”
    “Come on, Jack. A good Watcher is always prepared for anything.”
    “Ah, throwing my own words back at me.” Jack nodded. “Alright. Give me a call later if you still have my number.”
    “Thanks, Jack.”
    They shook hands again, Jack’s grip still as crushing as it was all those years ago, then Frank left the training room and walked along the corridor again to another elevator that brought him down three levels to the main Council floor. In contrast to the other floors, the one Frank found himself in was like a corporate heaven, all swish offices with big windows and mahogany frames, polished wood floors everywhere, oil paintings in expensive frames hanging from the walls.
    Frank stood in the reception area, which was manned by a beautiful looking blonde woman dressed in a dark power suit as she sat behind a big curved mahogany reception desk. “Can I help you?” the blonde woman asked, looking out over her horn rimmed glasses at Frank like he was a piece of trash just wondered in off the street.
    Ignoring the looks he was getting from the woman, who seemed to be in her late twenties, Frank walked to the reception desk. “I’m here to see the boss,” he said, drumming his hands on the polished wooden surface of the reception desk.
    The blonde secretary, if that’s what she was, just stared at Frank. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
    “My names Frank Swanson. I’m here to speak with Leland Cunningham. And no, I don’t have an appointment. Just tell him I’m here. He’ll see me.”
    “I’m sorry, Mr. Swanson,” the woman said, smiling politely. “Mr. Cunningham doesn’t see anyone without an appointment.”
    Frank nodded, looked into the face of the blonde woman. She wasn’t just a secretary, she was also security. He noticed the slight bulge inside her jacket. She also had a look in her eye that told him she had come through the system, was probably better trained than he was. “Look, this is important. It’s about the soulless maniacs running around up there killing people. You might want to call your boss and tell him I have information about that.”
    “That won’t be necessary, Michelle.”
    Frank turned to see Leland Cunningham walking down the corridor, dressed impeccably as always in a pinstripe gray suit. For a man nearly into his seventies, he still looked well, at least ten years younger. But then sitting around in plush environments all day wasn’t exactly hard on the looks. “Leland,” Frank said. “Nothing gets past you, does it?”
    Leland smiled, the smile of a man who was used to being one step ahead of everyone all of the time. “You didn’t really think you’d make all the way down here without me knowing, did you, Frank? I was wired of your presence the moment you entered the Temple. I assume you’re here about the debacle up top?”
    “And which debacle would that be? There are many.”
    Leland never missed a beat. “Let’s go to my suite. We can talk there.” He turned and started walking before Frank could even reply. Arrogant son of a bitch, Frank thought. He deserves to be head of the High Council.
    “Don’t worry,” Frank said to the blonde secretary with the gun under her jacket. “I’ll make an appointment next time. And by the way, nice Glock.” Frank smiled when he saw the tiniest of drops in her face. At least she didn’t go to pat her jacket.
    Leland’s suite was at the very end of the corridor. The ornate double doors were already open by the time Frank got there. Frank closed the doors behind him and ambled into the suite, which resembled a luxury hotel room with no windows, except with more art on the walls and priceless artifacts artfully placed around the massive room. Frank was glad to see Leland already pouring drinks. “Still