Blink of her Eye: A Time Travel Adventure (The Frank Stone Series Book 2) by Adrian Cousins

Author:Adrian Cousins [Cousins, Adrian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-04-02T00:00:00+00:00

Part 3

22

2015

Goody Two Shoes

Hartland raised a finger to indicate he required silence before Whitman enlightened him regarding the prelim results following tonight’s monumental cock-up. Or, as she just put it, ‘his failed mission that has resulted in a catalogue of issues’. Brave words from an employee, Hartland fumed.

Whilst taking a hearty drag on his cigarette, he eyed up the senior analyst. Due to being the one and only employee who appeared not to be terrified of him, he’d always found the woman quite intriguing. Also, apart from being a brilliant mathematician who’d secured a plethora of letters after her name after leaving Oxford, Hartland considered the twenty-something woman could easily provide stimulation of a different sort. Despite her dour dress sense, Hartland thought the slip of a lass could be regarded as rather easy on the eye.

He flicked his ash in the glass ashtray before rolling the lit end around to form a glowing point, smirking at the thought of Whitman dressed as a Bunny-Girl.

“Sir?” she inquired.

“I take it I’m going to require sustenance to hear what you have to say about my failed mission, as you so eloquently put it?” Hartland dropped the smirk in favour of one of his famous death stares as he addressed the analyst who stood before him.

Johnson tipped his head back to peer up at the heavens. That said, all he could see were the polystyrene ceiling tiles. Whitman, although brilliant, on the odd occasion, could be accused of not tempering her attitude to suit her audience. Throwing accusations at her team was perfectly fine, but directed at the Commander-in-Chief could, at the very best, be considered foolhardy. Although Hartland appeared calm, Johnson knew Whitman had lit his boss’s dangerously short fuse.

“If you mean alcohol, sir, then, yes, I think that might be advisable in your case,” Whitman replied, accompanied by an exaggerated eye roll.

Without being asked, Johnson snatched up a bottle of single malt from the top of the bank of filing cabinets that lined the wall behind his desk, which Hartland occupied. From his position behind his boss, so out of his eyeline, he attempted to catch Whitman’s eye when concerned about his analyst’s attitude. Clearing his throat and waving his hand were to no avail because Whitman and Hartland appeared locked in a game of who blinks first.

“Not for me,” stated Whitman, maintaining her hold of Hartland’s glower.

Johnson nodded in response and poured two fingers’ worth into each glass before handing one to Hartland.

“You don’t drink, and you don’t smoke, do you, Whitman?” Hartland asked before swallowing his whisky in one gulp. He grimaced and raised his glass for a refill while holding his senior analyst with his trademark vampiric stare. “So, tell me, what do you do?”

“I work, sir. I’m a brilliant analyst. So much so that I’m probably the most competent this organisation has ever employed. And, sir, I have no intention of poisoning my brain with alcohol, nicotine, or any other drug, for that matter. All of the above mentioned are totally unnecessary.

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