Clifton took them to a sixteen-storey high-rise near Pike Place Market and drove into the parking lot under the building. He steered the car down to the fifth sub-level, which was only accessible to those who had a code for a security shutter that covered the ramp.
‘This is one of Hux’s buildings,’ Clifton said. ‘This level is yours. You each have the vehicle Ms Attali requested for you.’ He pulled into a space beside a blue Yukon SUV and a silver Yamaha R1. ‘There are other tenants in the building, but you have the entire fifteenth floor to yourselves.’
Clifton led them to a bank of elevators, one of which was controlled by an alphanumeric keypad.
‘Only people Hux trusts have the code,’ Clifton said, demonstrating it to them.
They rode up in silence. Leila was surprised when they reached the fifteenth floor and elevator doors opened to reveal an entirely open-plan space. The whole floor had been stripped of walls and fixtures and was only broken up by the concrete elevator shaft that stood in the centre of the football-pitch sized office. The only other barriers between them and the huge windows that offered panoramic views in four directions were a few pieces of furniture. There were two beds positioned behind short partitions, a long table and chairs, a couple of couches and two desks. Half a dozen large Peli cases were lined up beside the desks.
‘The gear you asked for,’ Clifton said.
‘You staying here?’ Pearce asked as he dropped his holdall onto the carpeted floor.
‘No. I’m not from Seattle,’ Clifton replied. ‘I just wanted to meet you both.’ He hesitated. ‘I know you refused Hux’s offer of a job, but you should have another think about it. We could do a lot of good together.’ He handed Pearce a piece of paper. ‘This is how you reach me.’ He backed towards the elevator. ‘Good luck,’ he said, stepping inside.
‘Thanks for the ride,’ Pearce responded, and the elevator doors slid closed.
Leila walked to the nearest window, pressed her forehead against the glass and peered down at the tiny figures on the streets below. A group had gathered at the edge of a promenade that overlooked the shoreline. They were gazing out over Elliot Bay, but Leila had a better view of the large expanse of water and the bluffs of Seacrest Park beyond it, rolling hills of lush green vegetation which sprouted around magnificent waterfront homes. Movement in the crowd at the foot of the building caught Leila’s attention and for a moment she thought she saw Hannan looking up at her. But the woman wasn’t her sister, and hope died away as quickly as it had risen. You’ll see her everywhere, until you really see her, Leila thought sadly.
‘You OK?’ Pearce asked.
‘You going to keep asking me that?’ Leila replied, backing away from the window. ‘What did you make of him?’
‘He wanted to check us out,’ Pearce said. ‘I think he’s on the level.’
‘You think we can trust him?’
‘I didn’t say that,’ Pearce scoffed. ‘I don’t think we can trust anyone. Apart from each other. And even then . . .’
Leila nudged him playfully. ‘So, how do you want to do this?’ Her legs were screaming at her to climb into one of the comfortable-looking beds, but the bright Seattle sunshine shimmering on the calm bay said it was mid-afternoon, and no matter what her body might want, it was time to go to work.
‘I’ll take the port,’ Pearce said. ‘See if any of Richard Cutter’s colleagues saw anything suspicious the day he died. You check out the detective in charge of the investigation. See what they’ve found out.’