“He went to the US Embassy twice. I pulled a favour; he has dual nationality, British and American. I’m waiting for their CCTV footage to see if it was him, if he rigged the car then.”
“In the Embassy compound?”
“None of us were in crisis mode, clearly we’ve become too complacent behind our walls. We’re all looking at threats outside them, none of us expect it to be one of our own. I’ve got a request in for the street footage near the Ambassador’s residence but the Russians like to watch anything we’re interested in first so it takes time. I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
Eva paged through Louie Steinman’s university profile. A public lecture at 7:30 pm was more than she’d dared hope for. She knew where he’d be and how to get close to him, somewhere his neanderthal of a relative wouldn’t be. And she had an in through Charles. She shuddered. She couldn’t rely on Beatrice in Moscow turning up anything on CCTV quickly enough to confirm what they suspected. And Eva was sure The Society only dealt in absolutes. It wasn’t as though Professor Louie Steinman could hurt her in a public lecture hall. Eva could handle an old man.
She climbed the stairs to Nora’s office and knocked. No answer. Should she bother Gordon with it? She’d give him the choice. But he didn’t answer the knock at his door either.
If she went now, she’d have the chance to take care of another of those heavy priorities first.
“You can’t see Mr Mills,” the middle-aged woman wasn’t even trying for reasonable, “without an appointment.”
She held up one finger on Eva’s reply and coughed before she picked up the ringing phone. While Eva got Mrs Hyde, the caller got Dr Jekyll.
“Pipemaster UK, trademaster specialist, we value every customer. How can I help you today?”
Eva took her chance to dive through the side door that must lead to the warehouse. The vastness of the space beneath bright lights was surprising. It stored a sober rainbow of black, grey and white pipes brightened by orange on one side.
As she stepped away from the door, the MD appeared as though she’d triggered an alarm. “Mr Mills, Eva Janssen, CEO of Every Drop.” She injected enough authority into her introduction that he would never guess she was jeopardising her future by being there.
“You should make an appointment.”
“I shouldn’t have to be here at all.”
Long sideburns and hair poked out from beneath his white hard hat. Dressed in a god-awful brown checked shirt and an orange hi-vis vest, he could have walked right off the pages of a magazine’s homage to the seventies. He gestured at a rack behind her, frowning at her boots. “Health and safety.”
Eva put on a bright blue hard hat. “I’ll take responsibility for my toes.”
He held out his clipboard. “Care to sign to that effect?”
She grabbed it and did.
He took the clipboard back and checked. “There’s nothing wrong with our pipes. You need to be looking at the supply.”
“We are. I’m just here to understand. Other agencies use your pipes for water transportation in the developing world?” He nodded. “And they’re all manufactured in the same way.”
“Same as it’s always been done.”
“Can I see what we buy?”
He looked at her inadequate boots but led her to a run of thin black pipes that filled the centre racking. “Water pipes that get buried have a greater diameter but suspending them we’re limited by the weight factor, water’s heavy.”
“Remind me how these pipes differ from the regular ones.” It had been at Every Drop’s inception that they’d struck the golden idea of using the space above the slums to get the water in.
“The material is thicker, more rigid, the pipe diameter narrower and the span shorter, overlapping joins wider.” He slapped his hand against the pipe at his waist height. “These aren’t for you lot though, haven’t had the compound added.”
“The compound?” Eva forced a laugh. “I’m the Chief Executive Officer, not the Chief Operating Scientist.” She plucked a title from her imagination. “Remind me.”
“To stop them getting brittle under the UV rays. Fearful sun out there. We dip the pipes in it before they’re shipped out. No one complaining about that, are they? We’re following your regulations.”
“No, no, that’s fine, that part of it.”
“You might want to think about selling it on, no one’s got sick from your pipes. Only thing that’s different from everyone else’s orders is your compound.” He winked at her. “We might have to charge more to add it, seeing as it’s a desirable element.”
“It sounds like our scientist in charge needs a bonus. Which one was it, who instructed you?”
“I don’t remember names, more of an accent guy myself. Daughter’s a budding actress, what I haven’t spent on accent coaches. The man who comes in is a shoe-in for a Royal.”
Eva’s mind flicked through a list of Every Drop staff. No one spoke like that. “Where does the paper trail go for this? The extra cost?”
“To the bloke who’s been in the news, wittering on about how your water is saving everyone. Should at least mention us.” Mills complained. “Wetherington, like the toffee, that’s him. Without us adding the compound, you’ve got nothing. It’s not him who comes though.”
“What does he look like, the man who does?”
“Nothing stands out about him, brown hair, eyes, average height, weight, bit of a beard going on. Insists on being here when we do the dip, brings the compound with him every time. Bit anal like that.”
Those four words told her exactly who. Charles, hurting her again. How was he involved in this? What were he and Stuart doing?
Eva sighed. In the scheme of things, what she wanted didn’t matter. Doing the right thing was more important. “I want you to pause the next shipment until I personally give you the go ahead.”
Mills looked at his clipboard as though his sheet of paper could tell him what to say. “That’s irregular. Your
