I opened the door to James’s outer office and took a couple of steps in. Miss Travis was typing away behind her desk.
“Miss Travis? Is—”
She looked up and frowned at me. “Are you here for a reason? I don’t believe Mr. Wolfram has you scheduled for anything.”
“Why would the Wolf schedule me? Mr Trevalyan always does that.”
“Yeah, well, Trevalyan’s not here.” Rogers, a striking-looking chap with sandy-brown hair and blue eyes, sauntered out of James’s office. He worked directly under James, and when James was away, it was his task to assign missions, test out new weapons, vehicles, and other gadgets, and issue orders to the members of our squad.
Save for me. I took—had taken—my orders directly from James. And except for a single occasion five years previous, I’d got my orders solely via
