space to make it a lot easier to see your enemies coming for you. We are talking here, Mr. Chance, because it’s safer and more secure than anywhere in the Carnacki Institute. Very definitely including my private office. It’s harder for us to be overheard here, amidst the clamour of so many other voices and minds, by anyone or anything. Besides . . . it does people like us good, to get out among the ordinary, everyday people. In the everyday world. We spend too much time operating in the dark and in the shadowy places. This world, and these people, are what the Carnacki Institute was established to protect. They are the important ones, the ones who really matter. And we forget that at our peril, Mr. Chance.”
“I’m in trouble, aren’t I?” said JC. “I always know it’s going to be really bad once you start lecturing me.”
“We’re all in trouble,” said Catherine. “That’s why I can’t trust my office any more.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you outside the Institute, before this,” said JC. “It’s occurred to me, more than once, that you live in your office.”
“Does feel like that, sometimes,” said Catherine. “I have a cot out the back, for emergencies. When there’s a real flap on, and I don’t dare leave for fear of missing something . . . But no; I do have a home, and a life, outside the Institute. Even if I can’t always give them as much time and attention as I would like.”
“Do you have . . . a family?” asked JC, tentatively. Because it felt like he was dipping a toe into unfamiliar and possibly very murky waters.
“This is an official discussion, about official Institute business,” Catherine said firmly. “Not a pleasant personal chat.”
“You know all there is to know about my life,” said JC, defensively.
“Which is as it should be.” Catherine allowed herself a small smile. “It is necessary that I know everything about you if I am to protect you properly.”
JC gave her a calm and easy smile of his own. “You only think you know everything about me.”
“Go on feeling that way,” said Catherine. “If it makes you feel better.”
JC looked around, taking his time, considering the wide-open space and the people milling around everywhere.
“Don’t you feel . . . vulnerable, out here on your own? Without your usual personal bodyguards and special protections?”
“I am perfectly capable of looking after myself,” Catherine said sternly. “I am quite possibly the most dangerous person you will ever meet, Mr. Chance, and have been for most of my life. Certainly long before I joined the Carnacki Institute. And anyway, I am always guarded and protected. Even if you can’t see who’s doing it. Especially if you can’t see them. In fact, if you could spot any of my people, I would have no choice but to fire them for seriously underperforming.”
JC fought down a suicidal urge to slap her round the back of the head, just to see what would happen. Some impulses should be suppressed immediately—as long as you still have any working self-preservation instincts.
Catherine Latimer stopped abruptly, and JC stumbled to a halt beside her. He looked quickly about him, but they didn’t seem to have reached any particular destination, anywhere special or significant. He let his gaze drift casually over the nearest people passing by, but they all gave every appearance of being ordinary people, going about their everyday business. Men in city suits, out for a brisk walk between important meetings. Families with loud and raucous children: picnicking and sunbathing, or throwing Frisbees for dogs who clearly hoped the afternoon would never end. Young lovers reclining on towels and blankets, wearing as little as they could get away with, casually entwined. And tourists of every stamp and nationality, come to see what there was to be seen and take photos of it. JC turned back to Catherine and gave her his full attention.
“Who do you trust to protect you,
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