Charles Blair’s online professional information showed that he was a management consultant who is currently working in the cutthroat world of Financial trading. However, his firm had refused to give out the name of his current project or client site.
Monroe had obtained the desired information by managing to contact one of his more readily available friends, a recruitment specialist, who had divulged that Charles’s current project was based at a highly prestigious American bank in Bishopsgate, a road in the city that is home to many top-end banking institutions.
As Storm drives to the address, Leo reads out loud the information that Monroe has sent them.
Charles Blair is twenty-five years old, his road to success paved with the private education his parents’ money had bought him and the contacts his parents’ friendships had brought him. But according to his social media profiles, he is a risk taker who likes to burn the candle that both ends. He parties hard. He spends a lot of money on gambling and drinking and dining out. And on holidays and skiing and his luxury fully-serviced apartment in Hoxton. His clothes and his cars and his girls are always the best.
It seems that India Lawrenson is not his first foray into the ‘dark side’ as he calls it in his social media profiles, where he has boasted about the succubae he has dated. India Lawrenson appears to be his first werewolf conquest. Had he dated one before, no doubt he would have boasted about that too.
Storm and Leo arrive at Charles Blair’s place of work, a newly built billion pound glass tower that spikes into the London skyline. The ground floor receptionist puts Storm on the line to Charles’s team secretary who is forced to call Charles out of a meeting at Storm’s insistence. Charles Blair is not happy to see them.
When he joins them in a meeting room, he says impatiently, “Couldn’t this have waited until the evening? I’m in the middle of an important pitch.”
“Your girlfriend’s in the middle of a life or death crisis,” says Leo acerbically. He had been contemplating the view from the thirtieth floor window, but now turns to face Charles.
The young man has the grace to blush. It does not look like an expression that frequently occupies his haughty features, currently tanned from his recent long weekend away in Saint-Tropez, a break that had not included India Lawrenson according to the photographs on his social media.
“Can we make this quick?” he says shortly. “I’ve got work to do.”
Charles refuses to take a seat. He pulls down all of the blinds in the glass-walled office. Clearly he does not want his colleagues witnessing this meeting.
“Is our presence embarrassing you?” says Leo. “We can take you down to Agency Headquarters if you like.”
“No, that’s fine,” says Charles quickly. He finally sits down, and puts a bland smile on his face, making an effort at affability. “How can I help you gentlemen?”
“Mr Blair, are you aware that your girlfriend is missing?” asks Storm.
“Charlie please. Mr Blair is my dad. And yes, of course I know that she is missing.”
“And yet you did not file a missing person report? Weren’t you worried?”
“Look, we went out on Friday night and had a good time. It was her buddy Rachel’s birthday. We had a blast. India was supposed to come to mine on Saturday for lunch, but she didn’t turn up. I just thought she was hung over and she had decided to stay with Rachel for the whole birthday weekend.”
“You weren’t concerned that India didn’t call you all weekend?”
“We weren’t attached at the hip. She can do what she wants. She’s an independent woman.”
“Was it normal for her to not call you on a weekend?”
“Yeah. No. Maybe.”
“Which of those is it?” says Storm.
“Sometimes she doesn’t.”
“Is that what we will find if we check your phone records?”
“Don’t you need a warrant to do that?”
“Only if you don’t want to show us. Do you have a reason to not want to show us that information, Mr Blair?”
“You can see my phone records if you like,” Charles says, his face now red. “I’ve got no problem with it. It’s ridiculous if you think I’m a suspect. Do I need a lawyer?”
“Do you think you need one? Why did you not come forward to speak to us when you found out your girlfriend was missing and her best friend had been killed?”
“I was busy, okay?” Charles rubs the sides of his face, looking worried now. “I know I should have come but I didn’t think it had anything to do with me. India’s a werewolf you know. I thought maybe her lot did it.”
“Her lot?” Storm says. “What do you mean by that?”