I looked up at O'Brien. She was watching me, trying to read me. I had no idea what she'd seen as the different thoughts played over my face. I was definitely not on top of my game today.
"Talk to me, Blake," she said.
I decided for half-truth, better than nothing. "I was thinking that there's one type of politics I do participate in."
"And that is?"
"Vampires. I've got close ties to the Master of the City of St. Louis. I don't think Heinrick would knowingly work for a vampire, but he might not know. Most people like this work through intermediaries, so no one ever sees faces."
"Why would some vampire want to kill you just because you're dating the Master of the City?"
I shrugged. "The last time someone tried to kill me, it was for pretty much that reason. They thought it would weaken... the Master, make his concentration bad."
She leaned on the edge of her desk, arms crossed on her stomach. "You really think that's it?"
I frowned and shook my head. "I don't know. I don't think so, but it's the only politics I could think of."
"I'll put a note in the file, pass it up the line," she said. "We could offer you some police protection."
"You got the extra budget for that?"
She smiled, but not like she was happy. "Heinrick has terrorist in his dossier. Trust me, right now, with the T-word in the picture, I could swing the man power."
"Wouldn't that be person power?" I said, straight faced, looking her dead in the eye.
She snorted. "Oh, please, I'm not that P.C., and I don't think you are either."
"Sorry, couldn't resist."
"Besides you've worked with the police long enough to know that it usually is man power."
"Too true," I said.
"How about the police escort, or some surveillance?"
"Let me think about it," I said.
She pushed away from her desk. She didn't exactly tower over me, but she was tall. "Why won't you let us help protect you, Ms. Blake?"
"Could I have a copy of the report?"
She smiled, but it wasn't a pleasant smile. "Apply through channels, I'm sure you'll have one in a day or two."
"Can't I just use the Xerox machine?"
"No," she said.
"Why not?"
"Because you wouldn't take police protection, which means you are hiding something."
"Maybe, but if you give me copies of the photos I might be able to I.D. them."
"How?"
I shrugged. "I've got a few connections."
"You think your connections give better intelligence than the government?"
"Let's just say that I know the motives and priorities of my connections. I can't say the same for every branch of my government."
We looked at each other for a few heartbeats. "I won't try and debate this with you."
"Good, now can I have a copy of at least the photos?"
"No." And it had that ring to it of finality.
"You're being childish," I said.
She smiled, but it was more a baring of teeth, a friendly snarl. "And you're hiding something. If it comes back and bites this investigation on the ass, I'll have your badge for it."
I thought about saying try and see how far you get, but I didn't. I was new enough to the badge that I wasn't really sure what I could lose it over, and what I couldn't. I probably should look into those kinds of details.
"I don't know enough about why Heinrick was trailing me to hide anything, O'Brien."
"So you say."
I sighed and stood up. "Fine."
"Have a nice day, Blake. Go talk to your connections and see where it gets you. I'll stick with the government and Interpol." She gave an exaggerated shrug. "Call me old-fashioned."
"Suit yourself," I said.
"Just go," she said.
I went.
38
I opened the Jeep and heard my cell phone ringing. I kept leaving it in the car, forgetting I had it. I slid onto the warm leather of the seats, fumbling for the phone from under the seat, even as I closed the door behind me. Yeah, it would have been cooler with the door open, but I didn't want my legs hanging out the open door while I lay across the seat. Not because bad guys were after me, just normal girl paranoia.
I finally dug the phone out on the fourth and last ring before it went over to message mode. "Yeah, it's me, what?" I sounded rude and out of breath, but at least I picked up.
"Ma petite?" Jean-Claude made the word almost a question as if he wasn't a hundred percent sure he'd gotten me.
With the gearshift digging into my side, and the overheated leather against my arm, I still felt better. Better to hear his voice, better to know he'd called me first. He couldn't be all that mad at me if he called first.