He looked through the large windowpanes of his office and, for a while, he watched the passersby wandering by the streets. Westminster was, actually, London's richest district and it reflected on the people's countenance. Hurried, closed, concentrated. They walked as if they were marching, their eyes stuck on their clocks and their minds stuck on their own lifes.
He turned into his office and then his eyes found the grand panel. There were pictures of her, everywhere. Red ribbons that connected her last whereabouts, pictures of many suspects, pictures of victims. Telephone numbers, addresses, encrypted messages that made no sense at all. He put his hands on the pockets of his expensive KIngston suit and walked to the panel. Her photo was in front of him. The black hair, the sharp and intense eyes. The fleshy mouth, the mysterious scar. The face that chased him during the day and during his dreams.
Carmen.
He stared at the picture next to her photo, the silhouette of a man. The man who had charmed her. The man who gave her the coordinates, the guidelines; the man who spoiled her and gave her everything, except his identity.
The Raven.
Robin knew he was going far beyond his obligations. As a regulated Interpol officer, he knew he had several obligations. He knew he had a battalion of operations to manage. Officers to be supervised and directed. No one could claim that he didn't perform his duty with mastery - he possessed an almost infinite cadre of gratifications for his great work. He had more decorations than his superiors. However, all his perfection was flawed when it came to her.
He was obsessed with catching The Red Cloak's criminal. He studied everything about her, day and night, certain that at some point, he would be able to stay one step ahead of the woman who had overthrown agencies and governments with a quick snap of her lips. The phone rang and he walked to it, pressing the speaker button.
"McLockesller."
"Commissioner Gold is here."
Fuck.
"Ask him to come in."
Robin went to the door. Gold came in, his hair combed back, his dark gray coat with light snowflakes over his shoulders. He reached out and greeted him before walking, with the help of his cane, into the office. Without any ceremony, the commissary walked to the bar and poured himself a dose of Haig Club Scotch.
"How's it going, McLockesller?"
"Very well, Sir."
Gold walked over to the padded bench and sat there, staring at the blonde in front of him. "I'm a busy man, Robin. I don't have time to get involved, and our work doesn't allow bullshits of any kind."
Robin just nodded. He clasped his hands after sitting in front of the commissary, gracefully crossing his legs.
"You have two options, McLockesller. Either you end the Carmen operation, or you come up with new information. The executive board has been pressing me on this case since until now we only had expenses and no return. We don't advance anything about the Raven's identity."
"Sir, I understand their concern, but I assure you..."
"You don't guarantee anything, Robin." Gold broke off. He drank his drink in two long and deep sips, before he began to rise. "You're one of the best men in the company. Possibly the most brilliant mind they have ever known. But even the big ones can make big mistakes. Choose wisely and act as quickly as possible because they are watching us."
Robin nodded as the man left his office with slow steps. As soon as the door closed, Robin came back to his desk and threw everything on the floor, furious. Fists clenched, he punched the medieval table carved in Indian teak, feeling the impact of the punch in his center of pain. He raised his head and stared at the photo of the mysterious woman in the red cape.
I'll find you, Carmen. Even if it's the last thing I do.