The Chase (Isaac Bell 1)

“No, thank you,” Bell said quietly. “After sitting on a train for two days, I’d prefer a softer seat.” He lowered his long frame onto one of the sofas.

“As you wish,” said Alexander, not pleased with Bell’s superior demeanor.

“You were not here when I worked on a case three years ago.”

“No, I came six months later when I was promoted from our Seattle office.”

“Mr. Van Dorn spoke very highly of you,” Bell lied. Van Dorn had not mentioned him.

Alexander folded his hands and leaned across the empty wasteland of his desk. “I trust he briefed you on the murderer and his operations.”

“Not in conversation.” Bell paused to hold up the valise. “But he gave me several reports that I examined while riding on the train. I can see why the felon responsible for the robberies and murders is so difficult to pin down. He plans his criminal ventures with extreme care and his techniques appear to be flawless.”

“All reasons why he eludes capture.”

“After absorbing the material, I do believe his fetish for detail will be his undoing,” said Bell thoughtfully.

Alexander looked at him s

uspiciously. “What, may I ask, brought you to that conclusion?”

“His jobs are too perfect, too well timed. One small miscalculation could prove his last.”

“I hope we can have a close relationship,” Alexander said with veiled animosity.

“I agree,” said Bell. “Mr. Van Dorn said I could have Art Curtis and Glenn Irvine on my team, if it is all right with you.”

“Not a problem. I wouldn’t go against Mr. Van Dorn’s wishes. Besides, they told me they worked with you a few years ago.”

“Yes, I found them to be dedicated agents.” Bell came to his feet. “May I see my office?”

“Of course.”

Alexander came from behind his desk and stepped into the hallway.

Bell saw that all the offices were quite small and quite plain. The furniture was sparse and there were no pictures on the walls. Only one other agent was present in the office, a stranger to Bell whom Alexander did not bother to introduce.

Before Alexander could point out a closet office, Bell asked innocently, “Do you have a conference room?”

Alexander nodded. “Yes, on the opposite side of the hallway from the offices.” He stopped, opened a door, and stood aside as Bell walked in.

The conference room stretched nearly thirty feet and flowed fifteen feet to the side. A long pine table, stained dark and with a polished surface, sat beneath two massive, circular chandeliers. Eighteen leather captain’s chairs were spaced evenly around it. The room was paneled in pine that matched the table, the floor carpeted with deep red pile. High windows rose on one wall, allowing the early-afternoon sunlight to illuminate every corner of the room.

“Very nice,” said Bell, impressed. “Very nice.”

“Yes,” said Alexander with pride showing in his bloodhound eyes. “I use it frequently for meetings with politicians and influential people in the city. It gives the Van Dorn Detective Agency significant respect and an image of importance.”

“It will do nicely,” Bell said matter-of-factly. “I’ll work in here.”

Alexander looked directly at Bell, a fiery look in his eyes that suddenly glowed with anger. “That’s not possible. I won’t permit it.”

“Where is the nearest telegraph office?”

Alexander seemed taken back. “Two blocks south on Sixteenth Street and Champa. Why?”

“I’ll send a message to Mr. Van Dorn requesting the use of your conference room as an operations center. Considering the importance of the case, I’m sure he will give it his blessing.”

Alexander knew when he was licked. “I wish you well, Mr. Bell,” he conceded. “I will cooperate with you any way I can.” He then turned and left Bell to return to his suite in the corner. He paused in the doorway. “Oh, by the way, I’ve reserved a room for you at the Albany Hotel.”