Birdcage

Chapter 4 Dane...

It was so hard not to look back at her face after I'd walked away. I would love to have seen the shock and confusion. I do however feel guilty for the state her phone was in. I feel guilty about the whole thing if I'm honest, I could have put her in danger - these guys aren't the type of people to mess with. But I let my dick think for me. Not something I do often, but there was something about this girl, from the moment I saw her from the hotel window. When I saw her again, I figured it was fate. Plus, she saved my arse and doesn't even know it. I tried to get as far away from her as possible but I couldn't stop thinking about her. So, I removed my coat and hat before turning back around, and while staying out of sight in the crowds of people, watched her. Then, after she had run back into the coffee shop to replace her order, I found myself following her further, unable to stop my feet from moving. I stayed far behind enough so that she had no idea I was there. I felt a bit creepy, but it's what I do best; hiding in the background, watching.

I followed her to a modern looking building - big, with plenty of windows and 'Coupland Advertising' in huge metal letters on the side. I figured it must be where she works so I guessed she would be in there for the best part of the day. I should have been focusing on the Russians but I knew where they would be for the next few days and I have one of their phones bugged so I can still keep track of them. I decide I want to know more about this girl so I find a café opposite the advertising company - order a fry up and a coffee - get my phone out and google the place she works. It does what it says on the tin and is an advertising firm set up by Maxfield Coupland, the son of a self-made millionaire. Born with a silver spoon in his mouth then. There is a picture of him on their website and he looks like a right fucking weasel. Maybe I shouldn't judge though - could be a great guy. The place seems to specialise in advertisements featured in magazines and have contracts with some pretty big names. I delve into their website a little further and see a link to a Facebook page. I figure there might be photos on there, so I scroll through the page and select the photos section. It's mainly pictures of advertisements they've created, as well as a lot of photos of the owner. Loves the camera by the looks of things, I think to myself. I keep on scrolling, quickly scanning over the hundreds of boring pictures that have been put on here, until finally I come across what looks to be a group photo of some kind. I click on it and start looking at all the faces in the group of people. Bingo. There she is - looking as beautiful as she did today. She is wearing a black, low cut blouse and a tight leopard print skirt that hugs her hips and thighs, finishing just at the knee. Those long legs of hers that first caught my attention when I saw her from the hotel, look even longer in a pair of black heels. I notice she is stood next to the owner of the company, his arm slipped behind her waist. I can tell by her face she is a little uncomfortable, her smile is forced not quite reaching her eyes and her body leans away from him a little. The image sends a little buzz of irritation through my chest. It shouldn't, but it does. I don't like the thought of him putting his hands on her and making her uncomfortable. I'm sure he has probably tried it on with her at some point. She is incredibly attractive and he is a short man with a big ego and a lot money. A thought pops into my head, leading me to wonder if he has had her? No - looking at her body language I would say not.

I look at all the tags and come across Delila Evans. A mini profile picture pops up as I hover over the name, and golden blond hair catches my eye. I click on it which takes me to a profile, and I'm delighted to see its her. In her profile she is sat in the sun, hair up on top of her head, sunglasses over her eyes. She is laughing, sat on grass with her knees up to her chest, a glass of white wine in one hand, and the other stretched out behind keeping herself propped up. The picture has been taken from the side so I catch a glimpse of a little tattoo on the back of her neck. It looks like a feather - it's cute. Delila. I like it. Judging by some of the comments on her profile though she likes to be called Lila. I like that too. What am I doing? I can't see this girl again, so it's pointless finding out more. I just can't seem to help myself though. I look at the personal information that it would let me see, but all it tells me is that she lives in London but was born in Norfolk. I tap out a quick message to one of the guys back at base and ask him to do a background check on her, see what else I can find out. He replies straight away, saying 'No problem', no questions asked. Gwen will ask questions though when she picks up on this. She's my boss and constantly has a stick up her arse. I can't blame her though; she has a tough and important job. She started out as an Information Analysist for the CIA. She suffered a huge personal loss though - thanks to the job - so she quit, then up and left to the UK. She was head hunted by the agency I work for, and worked her way up once again. I admire her, she had a shit childhood which lead her into this line of work and has worked hard to get where she is, despite being a black woman. She is one tough bitch though, and right now her priority is to get that memory stick, not my little infatuation. Which is why she wouldn't be happy about what I'm doing right now. Whatever, I'll deal with that if and when I need to.