Heartbeat [Alec Volturi]

Human

~ Theo ~

My shoulder throbbed. The blood rushing to the injury was like a roar in my ears. So loud, I could almost convince myself it was possible to hear the blood in my veins. I shook my head, placing the boxed coffee and two boxes of doughnuts on the table in the middle of the office breakroom.

The table was swarmed by underpaid workaholics, and I attempted to manoeuvre out of the way. Holding in the grunt of pain as I received several pats on the back until I finally made it to the doorway. I grinned at the stereotype in action. Even if Interpol agents were several steps away from the cops usually associated with the cliché, it was still an entertaining sight.

"Theo West – best damn intern we've ever had." An analyst pointed at me as she took a bite of a chocolate sprinkle doughnut. "Don't worry about Roberts, kid. He'll run his mouth, but no one gives a damn."

Garrett Roberts was the type of man who enjoyed the glory that James Bond films brought to his profession. But he had none of the skills to back up the Hollywood image, which is why he was currently gloating about having minorly injured an intern's shoulder in a practice session, which would have been disturbing if I hadn't been the one leading the session. Plus, he framed the story better.

The original incident had been embarrassing, and it continued to follow me when I'd walk into the breakroom, and he'd start telling the story all over again. After the fourth day, the embarrassment traded itself in for exasperation for the entire department. Apparently, he would seek out the praise wherever he could.

The shift supervisor had tried to send me home and hopefully avoid a lawsuit in case my shoulder got worse. I reminded her that I'd signed the release forms necessary, and she let me return to my temporary desk in the corner of the office.

That desk was where Roberts found me today.

"You speak Croatian?"

I frowned, but gave in to my curiosity, "Serbian."

"Close enough." It wasn't, but I got the impression he wouldn't appreciate the correction. "Come on. We've got a case."

Eight hours later, I was sitting in a flight hangar casually observing the bustle of activity as Roberts stood above me, glaring at every innocent bystander. He was less than subtle and was certainly drawing attention from others. There were more workers than travellers around us. Anyone not wearing a uniform or without a clipboard stuck out like a sore thumb, including us.

"We caught her face on the cameras in France and again in Croatia," he continued to fill me in on the case. A painting by Edgar Degas had gone missing from a museum in France and was then attempted to be sold at an auction. It would have been a moronic move on the thief's part, except that an identical painting had been forged and submitted. It took three experts to confirm the original. The bids for the fake promptly skyrocketed.

Roberts continued, "the same card that bought her tickets made a payment for their regular plane taking off from this hangar."

He handed over the photograph in his hands. A young girl was smiling brightly into the camera, her short, curly brown hair was untamed, and despite a large bandage on her chin, she beamed at the person taking the picture. Her eyes caught my attention – an unmistakable, undeniable green that put the Wizard of Oz's Emerald City to shame. "This kid can't be more than 7 or 8. You think she helped steal the Degas?"

The older man snatched the photo back. "I think she made the forgery and passed it off in France." He flipped it over and mumbled, "it's an old photo. She'd be a teenager now."

I skipped the more obvious questions, moving to our current work. "What is she doing with someone who regularly uses a private plane?"

Roberts made a sound, signaling his annoyance with me asking the questions he couldn't answer himself. "Trafficking? Or she's like her daddy, and she conned some old billionaire. It's not important." I was pretty sure it was. "I need you to watch her reaction when I mention him. That's your one job. Can you do that?" I sighed patiently at his apish hyper-masculine display and nodded.