Free Gatecrasher by Robert Young Page A

second neither of them said anything.
    ‘I take it that’s what I c ame for, ’ Campbell stuttered and dropped his eyes to the envelope at her side. Moving his eyes down allowed him a chance to appraise her more fully and he leaned back as he noticed that they were still standing close from the handshake.
    She wore black leather shoes with a small heel and he guessed that she must be about five nine in her socks. She wore tights and he noted the smooth curve of her calves as they disappeared into the knee length black skirt she wore which sat delicately on the sweep of her hips. A white blouse was buttoned one off the top suggesting at a cleavage where his eyes lingered a moment longer than they should.
    He noticed that she hadn’t answered and he looked her in the face again, realising that he was staring now and rather obviously. He cursed his hormones. When he looked up though he noticed that she too had glanced down over his shoulders and chest before she met his gaze from beneath her eyelashes.
    ‘Oh. Yes. Couple of brochures like you said. I didn’t really know what else to give you. It would help if I knew w hat you were trying to find out, ’ she said.
    Be good if I knew too, he thought to himself and then said ‘Oh just a bit of background on the company, you know.’
    She nodded but it was obvious that she didn’t know. ‘Might I ask what kind of article are you writing Mr Michaels?’
    The pause was obvious, as was the slight raise of the eyebrows that made it clear that he hadn’t thought about that particular point. He was thinking fast of a lie to tell and they both knew it.
    ‘Not too sure yet. I mean the editor told me to look into the burglary, thinks we should cover that sort of thing, you know, local interest and all that. Depends what I find out really.’ He talked fast to try to cover up the pause but it did nothing to help. And then he found himself saying something that was against his better judgement but the words just sprang right out of his mouth. ‘Would it be alright if I contact you again Miss Knowles? If I need to. You’ve been very helpful.’
    In fact she had not yet even given him the envelope. But it was the question that caught her off guard. Him too.
    She handed him the envelope and then laughed nervously. ‘Its nothing really.’
    ‘Well I’m grateful anyway. I have your number so perhaps I’ll call again.’
    ‘Sure. No trouble at all.’ Sarah said backing toward the door. ‘Please do.’

 
20
 
 
    Tuesday . 6pm .
     
     
    George Gresham was sweating profusely and his face burned scarlet with exertion. Pumping his legs he pedalled hard on the exercise bike and stared off into nowhere, his mind working as hard as his body.
    He was waiting to hear from Slater. It was over a day now since they had spoken about what they were going to do next and Gresham was anxious. Anxious because if this turned out to be a dead end, he had no idea where to go next.
    Gresham could hardly believe that they were in this mess and wondered with a shake of the head how on earth they’d got here. Of course he knew how they’d got here; a combination of bizarre meetings, circumstances and, if he had to be frank, fuck-ups.
    He’d been introduced to a man named Drennan by Julius Warren – whom he trusted and who vouched for the man – saying that he’d known him years. Drennan had been a bit of a flash bastard; plenty of talk, and he seemed always to have a smirk on his face for some reason. Like he knew something. Warren didn’t have many friends like that and it struck Gresham as odd at the very least. Gresham had him pegged as a bit of an actor. He was always cagey with information, reluctant to say too much. It was a way of seeming important, of having the power. Gresham wasn’t taken in though.
    But the man had offered him money and quite a lot of it for what sounded to him like a pretty easy job. Normally that would have got Gresham ’s radar screeching for all sorts of