Read You Don't Have To Be Evil To Work Here, But It Helps for Free Online Page B

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    It had been the moment when he’d confessed to the pins and needles, and she’d said something (but he couldn’t actually remember what it was; something about the pins and needles, a suggestion). That was the flashback moment. He was certain of it. That was it - she’d said try rubbing it, and he’d been on the point of saying, you told me that the last time and it didn’t work.
    Of course, there hadn’t been a last time. They’d met before, once, briefly, at that stupid meeting, but at that time his feet had been pinless and needle-free. More to the point; hadn’t Cassie looked at him, just after he’d apologised for being embarrassing? He’d seen that look in her eyes before, somewhere, somewhen, and at the time it had puzzled him rotten, because he couldn’t understand what had been bothering her. Now, though, he did. That look on her face was what he’d have seen if, at that exact moment, he’d been looking into a mirror.
    Colin had drunk half his second pint without noticing. He put the glass down and scowled at it. This was starting to get weird, and weirdness was something that he preferred to shy away from, the way a wise dog avoids an electric fence, the second time. But I do know her from somewhere, he conceded unwillingly.
    Screw this, he thought. He left the rest of his beer and went outside. A bus was just pulling up; on the front, in the list of destinations, was Fleet Street.
    Well, he thought.
    Twenty minutes of trudging, and he found it; a little less than seventy yards up the street from the Cheshire Cheese. A simple brass plate that read:
    MORTIMER & Co
    Mortimers in Fleet Street, she’d said. He shrugged and went in.
    Just inside was a reception desk. Behind it was a girl; a singularly attractive blonde. She smiled at him, and said hello.
    Colin closed his eyes and counted to five. Originally he’d intended counting to ten, but patience wasn’t one of his principal virtues.
    ‘You again,’ he said.
    She looked at him. ‘Excuse me?’
    ‘It’s you, isn’t it? I saw you just now, at the other place.’
    The smile was still there, but it was doing that thing that happened to the J537/Z3 reed valve when incorrectly installed. What was it called? Work-hardening. ‘What other place?’
    ‘Where I just came from. St Mary Axe. You were behind the front desk.’
    Slight, brittle pause. ‘Well, no, actually. I’ve been here all day.’
    ‘No, it was you,’ Colin insisted. ‘I know it was. Or, hang on. Have you got a twin sister?’
    ‘Me? No.’ She’d moved her left hand off the desk and was fumbling for something under the ledge; the sort of place you’d wire in a panic button.
    ‘Oh. My mistake. Sorry.’
    ‘That’s all right. Look, who is it you wanted to see?’
    ‘See?’ For a moment it was as though she was speaking a foreign language. ‘Oh, see. No, nobody. No, I just, um, sort of dropped in. Well, I was passing, and I wondered what it is you do here. Just curiosity, really.’
    The blonde girl was definitely looking past him; chances were that the door through which Security would be likely to enter was directly behind his left shoulder. ‘How do you mean, exactly?’ she was saying.
    Colin applauded her training, or her common sense. Keep the nutsos talking and they’re less likely to attack. Defending her employer’s premises against the invading hordes of fruitcakes and weirdos is all in a day’s work for your highly trained and motivated elite-force receptionist. The thin blonde line, and all that.
    ‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said, taking a few steps back. ‘Very sorry to have bothered you. Bloody hell, is that the time?’ He turned and fled from the building.
    No more pratting around; it wasn’t safe, here in the big city. Only when he was safely on the District Line heading for home did he feel secure enough to open his mind to what he’d just seen.
    Definitely the same woman, Colin could swear to that, because he