Free Hell's Teeth (Phoebe Harkness Book 1) by James Fahy Page B

whose name I still hadn’t been given, explained that the reason I’d been brought in was not only because I was referred to directly in the ransom note (or threat, or whatever the hell it was) but also because Cabal, for all their influence and power, had overlooked one rather important thing in their quest to control our brave new world. They had forged no bonds whatsoever with the societies of the GOs. There were no vampire informants, no avenue to which Cabal could turn for information. The government that was dedicated to keeping its human population as human as possible, the government that poured almost endless funds into enterprises such as Blue Lab, defending our humanity, had not a single person placed inside the alternate society.
    Humans mixed with the GOs of course; the GO rights movement lobbied on their behalf, and then there were the fans who haunted every vampire hotspot, hoping to spot an immortal. But not one such person was Cabal. I personally considered this a particularly idiotic oversight.
    This, however, was apparently where I came in. With hooded eyes, the large nameless man explained that Cabal wanted me to make contact with the vampires, to act as a kind of unofficial ambassador, make links, dig around. Find out if anyone on their side of things might know what the hell was going on. And all of this because I had happened to catch the eye of the tousled-haired undead at the R&D presentation.
    The one time I get flirted with, it gets me drafted into the secret service.
    “I’m not sure what you expect me to find out,” I protested. “I’m a paratoxicoligist, not a private eye, and besides – and I’m sure this is more of a concern to me that it is to you – but if there really is a crazy vampire torturer running around the streets of New Oxford, there’s a good chance I could end up getting kidnapped and tortured myself.” These were two of my least favourite recreational activities, for the record.
    The Cabal member had been utterly unconcerned. “You will not be working alone, of course,” he told me in his gravelly murmur. “Servant Cloves here will be at your disposal. She is, I assure you, more than just a reassuring face on the screens of our city’s inhabitants. She is also a most competent agent.”
    From the look of shock and horror on Cloves’ face, this arrangement had clearly been news to her. She looked thoroughly appalled at the thought of working with me. It was clear testament to how much she was outranked by the nameless man, however, that she hadn’t argued. She simply opened and closed her mouth a few times, and then folded her arms and shot me a look of pure and undisguised hatred. Seriously, as if this was my idea of a good time.
    The nameless man had slid a manila file across the desk towards me, advising that it was all the intelligence they had been able to gather on ‘your mysterious Allesandro’. I wondered briefly at what point precisely he had become my Allesandro.
    “Where do we start?” Cloves had demanded, sounding very put out.
    Servant Harrison stepped in. “As you may know, Dr Harkness, Vivienne Trevelyan, as well as being the area supervisor for your own division in BL4, was also over several other … more sensitive departments.”
    I hadn’t known actually. Colour me out-of-the-loop.
    “Our findings from an internal search this morning show that approximately fifteen minutes after your last conversation with her, she wiped her own internal hard drive here in the system. We don’t know why; we are working on retrieving the information. However, we have found the ghost of a trail which suggests that immediately before she wiped her entire work board clear, she remotely downloaded several files onto your personal workstation.”
    I was surprised. Mine ? Why on earth would she do that? And why hadn’t I noticed?
    “We have been unable to retrieve these from your system this morning,” Servant Harrison sounded slightly embarrassed. “You