Invasion of Privacy: A Deep Web Thriller #1 (Deep Web Thriller Series) Read Online Free Page A

action as far as Jenny and the other members of his MIT were concerned. He seemed inexperienced in how to effectively prioritise the lines of enquiry and balance the limited resources within his team. Jenny was not alone in wondering if he’d been fast-tracked through the ranks too quickly; another minority officer benefiting from the Met’s positive discrimination policies. Although, why a black man from Birmingham had a name like Raul Da Silva, Jenny had yet to find out.
    The doors to one of the four lifts slid open. The occupant made a beeline for them. “Not more police?” the man said, tetchily. 
    “And you are?” asked Jenny.
    “Clive Evans. I’m the building manager here.” Evans held his hand out, very business-like. Jenny shook it and introduced herself and Alan.
    The building manager’s lanky frame towered over both her and Alan. Jenny assessed that the grey pinstripe suit Evans wore must have been custom made. There was no way you could buy such a long suit in your average high street shop.
    “Can you lead the way?” asked Jenny, walking purposely towards the lifts.
    He overtook her in three gangly strides. “Uh, ok. This way.” 
    Jenny followed Evans to the lifts, hoping the squelching in her shoes was less noticeable than it felt. They stood side-by-side.
    When the doors slid to a close, Evans asked, “How long will the top floor be cordoned off? The officers upstairs won’t tell me anything. Most of our meeting rooms are located on that floor and they’re all booked out this morning. I can see this is a serious situation but my tenants are already complaining. I need to tell them something.” 
    Jenny watched his reflection in the lift’s mirrored doors as he whined on, but it was the way he looked down his nose at her that wound her up.
    “Mr Evans, you do realise that there’s been a murder? A murder . That’s a damn sight more important than a few business meetings being cancelled.”
    “I do understand that, Detective Inspector. But what should I tell the tenants?”
    “Seems to me that most business meetings take place in Starbucks these days. I believe there’s one just around the corner.”
    Evans opened his mouth to respond indignantly and then thought better of it.
    They stood in silence as the lift glided upwards. Jenny checked her shoes, half-expecting to see a puddle oozing out from the shiny black patent heels. She noticed that, in her struggle through the downpour, one side of her white blouse had come loose and was showing below the line of her fitted grey jacket, which had also come undone. She tucked the blouse back into the grey skirt and glanced self-consciously at Evans’ reflection, only to discover he was staring straight at her reflected breasts, his lips slightly parted. She was used to it, but most men immediately looked away when they realised they had been caught staring. She looked down and understood. Her blouse had become transparent from the wet and her bra was on full show, leaving little to the imagination. 
    “Seen enough?” she demanded, buttoning up the jacket. She felt her face redden. 
    He switched to staring at his feet and mumbled something that might have been an apology.
    As the lift slowed, Jenny ran fingers through her wet shoulder-length auburn hair in an attempt to get it back under control and recover some sense of professionalism.
    The doors parted on the eighteenth floor, revealing a uniformed PC with white overshoes covering his boots. Immediately he said, “Sorry, this floor is closed . . .”
    “It’s okay, Constable,” said Jenny, flashing her warrant card. 
    “Okay, ma’am. SOCO says you’ll need to wear these.” He handed out paper slippers to them both, which they obediently put on. 
    “This way,” Evans said, turning left. Jenny followed. 
    “You said ‘tenants’. What do you mean by ‘tenants’?”
    “The companies that rent office space within this building. Customers of Flexbase, the owner of this