They had entered the building in complete silence, when the doors to the lift opened on the 30th floor it had all been silent and up until Moriaty had guided her through a maze of corridors she could have heard a pin drop between them. But then they rounded a corner and into view came a large semi circle desk, situated in front of a large wall of frosted glass, an almost hidden set of double doors placed in the middle.
Getting nearer, Katherine noticed there was one large padded chair behind the desk as well as a desk top computer, printer, fax machine and a large line of paper trays for organising. Moriarty slowed his steps until he was leaning one arm against the front of the receptionists desk which was a higher level than the working level behind it.
"This is where you'll be working for the next few days." He patted the desk as if it were some fancy new car and then looked at her.
"Here?" There was a slight twist in her features as she took in her surrounding. It was all very...bare. The walls were painted a light grey apart from the wall behind her, adjacent to the glass wall, which was covered in a cream textured 3D paper. There were no paintings, no pieces of art, nothing. The only other thing in the reception area was a small seating area made up of six black cushioned chairs and a glass coffee table. "What as?" It could be worse she though, at least she wouldn't go home with hands burnt from bleach. It was stylish...minimalist.
"Use your head Katherine, I'm a busy man." Moriarty rolled his eyes and tapped his hands on the glass in a fast beat when she failed to respond in less than ten seconds. "My receptionist left over the holidays, some...baby or something. You're her replacement until further notice."
"Okay..." Katherine looked at all of the equipment behind the desk and frowned. "But I've never been a receptionist before." She looked at him but instantly regretted her words when he looked at her with a bored expression and turned his back on her, heading towards the double doors.
"You'd also never disinfected a crime scene or ease dropped on strangers but you proved yourself there." Jim spoke loudly over his shoulder so she would here. "Use your initiative." With one hand on the glass he pushed the door open easily and at the last minute, before he disappeared from view, looked at Katherine. "Someone will be in to set you up. I'll be in my office."
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Soon after Jim's rude exit, leaving her clueless as to what to do next or even what work she was meant to be getting on with for him, a young man showed up and helped her set up an account on the computer at the desk. Or her desk she should say. He set up a password for her, an email account linked to the business and a profile, what purpose it served she didn't know, but it all managed to take up an hour of her time which she was grateful for.
During the time he was with her however, she noticed the guy never looked her in the eye and never made any sort of contact with her. He always remained a foot or so away, pointing at the desktop screen from there while directing her what to do. It was strange, yet she couldn't help but think Moriarty was partly to blame for the guy's standoffish attitude.
Never the less, he soon left, going back up to the 'tech floor' as he called it. Which left her alone. Half 10 in the morning and she didn't know how long she was going to be here, as long as Moriarty most likely but that could be late into the night. Yet, there wasn't anything to tell her what to do. Her email inbox was empty, her desk cleared of any notes or instructions...the whole segment of the office was empty.
Her eyes eyes the door to Moriarty's office. She could always go and ask him, but then she guessed that wouldn't be her best example of using initiative. Instead, she took a seat. Behind her desk and opened up an Internet browser. She may have had a tv but that was nothing compared to what was on the Internet. She went straight to the BBC News website and typed in her name, her old name and awaited the results.
'The Mystery of Lucy Scott: Will she ever be found?'
'Scotland Yard keep the Samson case open but take more than half of their officers off the search for main suspect Lucy Scott.'
'Runaway of the year: Lucy Scott sighted in France.'
The list went on and on, full pages of articles and forums from readers about her. How some people had sighted her in different cities across England and the rest of the world. All of them false obviously as she'd never left London, more fool them. But at least some articles were a relief, the police were cooling off her back and slowing their search. There was only so much money they could spare on looking for her, especially when for all they knew she was dead. It was one less thing to worry about, and if the police cooled off maybe soon Samson's men would follow suit.
She was just getting to a juicy bit, something about that familiar detective at Scotland Yard's theories when another window automatically opened. It was an email, her first email while working there, but the subject title made her squirm and giggle.
From: J Moriarty
[mailto:kreine@inc.m.com]
Sent: 1 January 2006 10:42
To: K Reine
Subject: Hello Sweetheart
Don't think I can't see what you're reading about Miss Reine. I told you forget about it, that does not include looking up everything those people have to say about Lucy Scott.
Naughty girl.
I'm expecting a client at 12, send them straight in. Ask them if they want anything. If so, get it. Hope that's not too hard for you.
Until then, try to entertain yourself in a less embarrassing fashion.
JM.
How did he know? Was he watching her? To be fair she wouldn't put it past him. Yet much to her dismay she was chuckling to herself by the time she finished reading the email and hoped that he was watching as she shook her head and began to type out a reply.
From: K Reine
[mailto:jmoriarty@inc.m.co.uk]
Sent: 1 January 2006 10:53
To: J Moriarty
Subject: Re: Hello Sweetheart
Jim,
Maybe I wouldn't have strayed into such online territory should I have been given some secretarial work to do...
Understood. In the mean time is there anything you, yourself, would like?
Katherine.
She probably shouldn't have replied, just silently obeyed and waited for this client he mentioned to show up in just over an hours time. But the temptation was once again just too strong.
Katherine sat back in her chair now she had nothing to do but wait for his reply, if there ever was one to come. The news browser had been closed by her and just an empty desktop sat in front of her...for Moriarty wanting to keep fun in the business she was fast growing bored. She tapped her heels on the marble floor, creating a faint clicking rhythm, and ran her hand down the length of her designer black pencil dress which was detailed with a white shoulder patch and band around the waist. It was nice, comfortable, smart...no use hiding behind a desk. But she would agree with Moriarty, it was much preferred to getting her hands dirty. Maybe...she thought...then again at least cleaning a body was exciting. Exciting? Who was she? Not boring...kept her busy.
Her head began to spin with new thoughts pushing into her head. All new emotions, heart pounding realisations were showing themselves each day. Missing Jim...when she saw his gifted flowers dying by her bedside. Feeling no remorse while her fingertips fitted over thousands of pounds of silk. When it all started flooding over her, thankfully the small notification popped up in the bottom right corner of the screen, interrupting the crowd of mental voices.
Katherine clicked on the small envelope icon and the mail box screen opened in front of her eyes.
From: J Moriarty
[mailto:kreine@inc.m.co.uk]
Sent: 1 January 2006 10:59
To: K Reine
Subject: Re: Hello Sweetheart
Keep out of my way, I'm busy.
Just sit there and make me look good.
This time she didn't reply. The only thing she did do was close the email, sit back in her seat with one leg crossed over the other and release a heavy sigh. Awaiting her one job of the day to show up.
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Dead on 11:59, she heard footsteps down the corridor which only led to the area where her desk and Moriarty's office was. The whole floor was basically a maze, bidding him a long walk away from the elevator, bar some small utility rooms on the way. Katherine noticed she was holding her breath only seconds before two large men rounded the corner into her view, and straightened herself up in her seat, subconsciously fixing her hair by running a hand through it. After the initial wave of men came a taller man in a long dark grey coat and pristine ink black suit. He had a face as plain as slate, small amount of stubble on his chin but well groomed overall. Another two men followed him but stayed by the entrance to the reception whereas the other two fell back the closer to the desk the man came.
"Good afternoon." Her voice was shamefully quiet as she shyly looked up to him through her lashes. After second of silence she raised her head further and met his eyes, but wished she hadn't. They weren't as black as Moriarty's and no where near as manipulating, but he had a sick grin. A smirk which a woman would slap off in any other setting.
"Is he in?" He was British, accent coming up a little northern but clear. He cut straight to the point, eyes glancing towards the office doors in-between words spoken.
"Yes." With a nod of her head, Katherine stood and nervously dusted her figure down again as she moved to walk around from behind the desk. "Can I get you anything?" She was forced to raise her voice, addressing the man from a few feet away, asking exactly what she had been told to.
"A glass of scotch, neat." Where the hell was she meant to be getting that from? She'd thought he was being patronising, asking only as it was going to be hard for her, but she hadn't expected any reply other than no or water.
"Right away, Sir." She couldn't exactly tell him no, out of fear of what he'd say and what Moriarty would do to her should she even breath anything other than 'yes'. Then, with a fluttering breath and shaking hands, Katherine gestured towards the office with her hands and turned her back on the men to lead the way. "If you'll follow me." She walked towards the glass, made the polite decision to knock and then pushed open the door, keeping her hand on the handle and allowing the man and two of his men to walk in.
If two men hadn't still been watching her, as soon as the door was shut Katherine would have ran. But instead she walked very steadily until she was alone and then hurried towards the set of utility rooms she'd spotted next to a bathroom down the hallway. The first one was empty, just office supplies and a few spare computer lying on some shelves. The second was filled with printers, scanners, fax machines and a few other large pieces of technology she didn't recognise. It was interesting, but it wasn't scotch. However, the third door on the right finally gave her some hope as she walked into a small kitchen by the looks of it. She desperately dug through cupboards and draws, finally stumbling across an unopened bottle behind a door next to a small fridge.
There wasn't time to jump for joy or thank her luck and quick thinking. Only just time to grab two glasses, should Moriarty join the man for a drink, and place them on a silver tray already sat on the bench. She then began a speedy walk back to the office where she once again knocked, somewhat nervously, and entered.
Katherine tried, at first, to hide her amazement at the offices appearance. It wasn't some small 12 foot squared wooden room like most were, but she wouldn't been disappointed if it had been. Instead, the whole wall behind Jim's long best was windows, looking out into the heart of London. There were a few filing cases against the wall on the right hand side, painted so the cream complimented the grey walls, and a few pieces of art hanging to her left. Moriarty didn't sit behind his desk, which looked more cluttered than she'd expect it to, but in a small coffee taking area a few feet forward from it. One of his legs was crossed over the other while the man sat opposite him on a separate chair and his men stood on either side of the door she'd entered through. It was like something out of a movie set. A bond film. Down to the detail of her bringing them both their first drink of the day.
The two men, one of which looked far more amused at her entrance than the other, were already deep in conversation. But where Moriarty waited until she moved into his eye line to check her out, the stranger raised his head the second her perfume drifted through the room.
"I've gave you a number Mr Dunham, if you want me to follow though, that number will be transferred." She tired not to listen in as she walked over to the pair but Moriarty's voice was so hard and empowering, it was impossible for her to not take in the words. Katherine did take care however, thinking it best to go over to the client first and pouring his drink out on the tray.
"Now, I'm sure we can negotiate." The feeling of his eyes burnt into her skin, causing every inch of her body which he covered with his beady eyes to plucked with goosebumps. There was only seconds spent looking at Moriarty while she stood there, and that gaze only intensified when she bent to set his filled glass on the table. "As much as I admire some of your business assets..." There was no blush to hide like there was when Jim looked at her so openly, only the urge to hold back a sneer. "They aren't worth that much."
"That's what it will cost you." The sourness in Moriarty's voice was sharp and easy for her to detect. Katherine stood back up straight and turned eyes onto her boss as she walked over to set his drink down, whether he wanted it or not. But it wasn't her who had angered him, it was this Mr Dunham character. Both for his lack of agreement towards the deal and his disrespect towards something which was clearly his. Out the corner of his eye, Moriarty watched Katherine closely as she bent again but made a point of reaching out and wrapping a hand around her wrist, lightly pulling her to him. "Get me Ralph Wilcock on the phone." In response she nodded, but saw the glee in his eyes as he looked behind her to where Dunham was now watching on. She was coming along perfectly. If a man such as this wanted her, she was climbing up and doing quite nicely at evolving.
As she left the room to do as he asked, she thought nothing of it. Knew nothing of it. She couldn't have. Only Moriarty knew what was in store for her, what plans he had rolled out in front of him. She was a pawn, a dull and dainty piece which remained interesting for a few seconds. But like a chess set, he had pertly of pawns. What he needed was a Queen.