Alexander’s tense voice asked, “Can I help you find something, Dr. Berking?”
“No, no,” Berking huffed. “Just needed to get my checkbook. I lost a bet to Anderson at his dinner party down the street. Left it here.” There was a jingle of keys as he unlocked a drawer. Saffron hoped she’d put everything back in its correct place.
“Pen?” Berking mumbled and his large body shifted in front of her.
“I have one, sir.” Quieter steps approached the desk.
Berking grunted in thanks. “Don’t you worry about the expedition.” There was the sound of a pen scratching against paper, then a rip. “Though it’s never a bad idea to be traveling with protection. I, myself, will be bringing a pistol, of course.” Laughing merrily, Berking shoved his desk drawer shut with a snap and a sound like tearing paper. Two pairs of feet left the room, the lock of the door flicking behind them. A moment later, the outer door shut and locked.
Under the desk, Saffron slumped. She might have the nerve to flirt with a few men and pick a lock or two, but hiding under a desk while her harasser stood inches away—she did not have the nerves for that. And she didn’t even have anything useful to show for her attempt to unearth something in Berking’s office.
She didn’t dare move, even if she believed that if Berking came back, Alexander would stall him again and she’d be able to hide. Her ears strained for hints of his return. Her neck, twisted into a strange angle by her hunched position, began to cramp. She finally forced herself to move, and as she pushed aside the heavy chair blocking her, she saw a piece of paper had been caught in the corner drawer from which Berking had retrieved his checkbook, wedging it in the back of the desk. Saffron tugged on it, and it ripped, the sound so loud and shocking in the silent office that she jolted to her feet. Holding her breath, she waited for sounds of approaching footsteps.
When nothing came, she stood up, stretching her neck this way and that, then rubbing at her knees, which burned from crawling across the carpet. Her stockings were likely ruined. She switched off the lamp and crossed the room to leave. Her hand had barely touched the door when she stopped, glancing down at the corner of paper she’d ripped. The letters and numbers on the paper didn’t mean much, but it was clear that it was a formula of some kind. Where fear had been a moment before, suspicion crept back in. Pursing her lips, Saffron frowned at the desk. Could she risk another few minutes?
She’d already come this far.
Saffron turned around and hurried back to the desk. With the light back on, she unlocked the top drawer and slid it out, feeling the catch of the paper as she did so. Carefully, she inched her hand as far back into the drawer as it would go. Her fingertips met the scrunched paper. She tugged and wiggled, but she got nothing but another torn edge, frustratingly blank, and feathered bits. Disappointed, Saffron looked to the checkbook, flipping through his receipts. She found it odd that Berking left it in his desk drawer, but he would not be the first to try to keep his spending habits in control that way. Her uncle had done the same thing—kept his money stashed far away when he was drinking.
She found the check from today. It wasn’t addressed to Dr. Anderson, but to Rupert Glass. She quickly nabbed a sheet of paper from the second desk drawer and copied the information; then, remembering Glass’s note she had found earlier, she copied it onto the piece of paper too. It was too coincidental not to be the same person. Now that she thought of it, Glass was a name she’d heard around campus before. She would check.
She replaced everything except the torn formula, which she folded into the paper, and checked each drawer to make sure they were all locked. She replaced Pierce’s spare keys, but after two failed attempts at picking his desk drawer shut, then the office door, she gave it up as a bad job. The cleaners would find the office door unlocked in the morning and likely think nothing of it.
Back in the hallway, she silently made her way to the stairwell.
“Well done, Ashton,” she hissed at Alexander with a mocking glare. “I was nearly caught!”
He pressed a finger to his lips, and she followed him down the stairs and to his office. Just as she turned to him with a triumphant smile, ready to share her discoveries, Alexander closed the office door, enveloping them in darkness before he crossed to his desk and flicked on the lamp.
He sat in the middle of the couch and nodded next to him in invitation. Saffron, unsure of his enigmatic half smile, sunk onto a cushion. He stretched an arm behind her.
Clearing her throat against the sudden nerves she felt, Saffron began to describe what she’d found, but the look Alexander gave her effectively dried up her words.