State Of Emergency: (Tom Buckingham Thriller 3) Read Online Free Page B

he badly needed a night off and some distraction. As he went towards the double doors she pressed her card into his hand.
    The lights were off in the foyer: no receptionists in yet. Good – he’d have the place to himself for a while. But as he mounted the polished wooden stairs, two figures emerged out of the gloom and blocked his path, a pair of thick-necked bodyguards with matching black suits and blank faces. Tom had never seen them before. Had they been sent from Whitehall? They didn’t look like government issue: too steroidal.
    ‘Morning, gents.’ He gave them a cheery grin and kept moving towards them.
    One – he resembled a young Arnold Schwarzenegger – raised his hand. ‘Please – you stop.’
    A strange guttural accent: possibly Russian, but not quite.
    This was Tom’s place of work. He had every right to be there. He wasn’t going to stop for anyone, even if they did ask nicely. He was about to barge through them when the door to Rolt’s office at the end of the corridor opened and the pair immediately turned and set off towards the person who had just emerged.
    It was too dark for Tom to make out anything more than a silhouette, a short, stocky figure, a man well into his sixties, judging by the stiff movements and stoop. Now Rolt was standing in the doorway. The silhouette turned and gave him a bear hug. Tom had never seen anyone hug Rolt – he wasn’t the hugging kind. It was an awkward sight, not least because Rolt towered over his visitor.
    The steroidal duo came alongside their man and the three stepped into the lift, which led straight down to the private garage beneath. Rolt watched them go, then went back into his office.
    Tom reached the door, waited a few seconds, then entered without knocking. There was a smell that he had never encountered before in that room: tobacco. Rolt spun round, a look of complete shock on his face. He had on a three-piece Prince of Wales check suit, and a dark red silk handkerchief in the breast pocket that matched his tie. But his face was haggard.
    ‘Sorry, am I interrupting?’
    Rolt flushed. He didn’t look at all pleased to see Tom, which was interesting. For a moment nothing came out of his mouth, as if his new outfit had constricted his breathing. Then his face sprang to life. He was beaming at Tom now, the same forced grin that he had produced on the campaign trail when he had been mobbed by an adoring public, with whom he never looked at ease. Even with the grin, his eyes still seemed narrowed by some lingering worry.
    ‘No, no, you’re just – very early.’
    Tom beamed back as though he hadn’t registered the awkwardness. He gestured at the door. ‘One of your fan club?’
    Fear flashed across Rolt’s face again.
    ‘I heard the lift.’
    As Tom’s words sank in, Rolt’s face relaxed. He rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, just an old acquaintance from my business days. Looking forward to me getting to work, kicking some ass .’ He mimed a kicking motion with his foot and laughed at his own feeble joke.
    Tom’s eye fell on a cigarette butt that had been dropped onto the floor, perilously close to one of Rolt’s precious Persian rugs. Strange, since he was a fanatical anti-smoker.
    Rolt followed his gaze. ‘Fucking cleaners.’
    He reached down, pinched the butt between thumb and forefinger nails and dropped it into the bin, then wiped his fingers on a tissue.
    Another awkward silence. Tom rescued him from it. ‘Well, congratulations, chief. You nailed it.’
    Rolt never tired of compliments and Tom dished them out regularly, to keep the man sweet.
    ‘Thank you. Yes, I think I rather did.’
    Tom added one more for good measure: ‘The Party would have been screwed without you. You totally saved their bacon.’
    The awkwardness gone, Rolt nodded in acknowledgement, then put his head on one side. ‘I rather thought you’d be having a lie-in.’
    Tom felt a flash of contempt – Rolt had no idea what it was like to kill – but he didn’t let it