Morgan held the Colonel’s gaze. When the American spoke, the officer’s stretched smile faded to a grimace. ‘Abbie Winchester is the victim of a serious crime, Colonel, and it’s down to her what action she wants to take against the people who committed that crime, including her own father.’
‘I don’t see that—’
‘I’m not finished,’ Morgan cut him off. ‘Grace Beckit is dead, Colonel, and all of the evidence that Private has gathered has accompanied Aaron Shaw into custody. I expect the Duke will join him in the cells shortly. Scotland Yard will get the full cooperation of myself and my offices in their investigation, and those two young girls will get their justice.’
Without hiding his disgust, De Villiers turned on his heel and left as quickly as he’d appeared.
‘You’ve made another enemy there,’ Cook cautioned.
‘But I’ve made a friend, too.’ Morgan smiled at her. Beside him, Knight began to take a great interest in the parade programme in his hands.
‘Maybe,’ Cook allowed, tilting her head a little to the side. ‘I do think I could work well beneath you.’
‘It gets better,’ Morgan promised.
‘Does it?’ she asked. Out of Knight’s field of vision, the Major traced a fingernail along the back of Morgan’s neck. ‘So when do I find out how I did on my assessment?’
Morgan said nothing. Instead he looked up to where the smoke trails of the Red Arrows merged and blurred against the azure blue of the sky. Tomorrow he would be up there, on his way to a home halfway across the world, and the pressures that came with being the head of a global investigation agency. But tonight he would be a tourist.
He turned in his chair and smiled at the captivating woman in front of him.
‘The parade was great,’ he said.
Cook looked deep into his eyes. The slightest tremble appeared on her perfect lips as Morgan took her hand.
‘Now show me what else London has to offer.’