Revolution Read Free

Mitchell.’

    Megan glanced again at her watch. It was the 24th. She unpinned her pony–tail and shook out her long blonde hair before turning toward the bathroom.
    ‘Delete.’
    ***

3
    Megan Mitchell would never have set foot in the Hunter’s Lodge were it not for the smoking–ban enforced in the United Kingdom. Before the law had come into effect it had not been possible to walk through most London pubs without night–vision goggles and breathing apparatus, the narrow corridors of the ancient inns turning their confines into a swirling miasma of tobacco fog. Now, the low ceilings were no longer stained nicotine–yellow and the pub smelt uncharacteristically clean.
    Megan checked her watch as she walked inside: just after half–past twelve. She briefly eyed the liquor bottles behind the bar before ordering a coke and looking around. A few aged locals sat huddled around a fruit–machine, and a couple of Japanese students scrutinised a map at a nearby table. Megan scanned the booths further down, deeper inside the Lodge, and almost instantly caught the eyes of a man watching her from a table opposite the booths. Middle–aged, wearing a blue shirt and with a heavy leather flying jacket hanging over the back of his chair, he couldn’t have looked more American if he had tried. Megan strolled across to the table.
    ‘Brooklyn?’ she asked the man.
    ‘Right on,’ the American smiled, his apprehension vanishing as he extended his hand. ‘Frank Amonte – thanks for coming Megan, I appreciate it.’
    Frank gestured to the seat opposite and Megan sat down.
    ‘I don’t know what I can do for you,’ Megan said cautiously. ‘In fact, I don’t know you at all.’
    ‘I know,’ Frank said, raising an apologetic hand, ‘and I’m real sorry for all the cloak and dagger crap. I’ll explain myself, but first of all, have you eaten?’
    Megan hadn’t, so she let the American order steak sandwiches for them both. Despite not ever having met Frank Amonte before, Megan found herself liking the American, his expression open and friendly.
    Megan watched Frank take a big bite from his sandwich before he spoke.
    ‘You’re a hell of a hard woman to find, Megan, I’ll give you that.’
    ‘Good,’ Megan said with a brief smile. ‘Who gave you my number?’
    ‘A colleague of mine in Manhattan, someone you know – Michael Burnside.’
    Megan nodded slowly, picking up her sandwich.
    ‘I haven’t heard from Mike in a long time. How’s he doing?’
    ‘He’s great, just great. In fact, it was partly his high opinion of you that brought me out here.’
    ‘And what did bring you out here, Frank?’
    ‘I understand that you have a talent for finding people.’
    Megan Mitchell paused with the sandwich at her lips, before setting it back on her plate. She took a sip of coke instead. ‘Is that so? And why would that bring you all the way here?’
    Frank’s sighed heavily, shadows passing like clouds behind his eyes.
    ‘Four weeks ago, an investigative reporter from one of our offices flew from the United States to Europe. She was following leads that I know nothing about. What I do know is that she stayed in contact via strict pre–arranged calls with me, same time every night. She never missed that call until eight days ago. Nothing has been heard from her since.’
    Megan nodded, pushing her sandwich to one side. ‘And?’
    ‘I’ve tried every avenue that I can to locate this person but nobody knows a thing. In the end I decided that the only option was to broadcast her disappearance, get it on the news so that maybe something would come up or maybe she’d get in touch somehow and let us know that she was okay.’
    Megan drained her coke and reached for her jacket.
    ‘So publish the piece.’
    ‘I couldn’t,’ Frank said urgently, sensing that Megan was already losing interest. ‘They wouldn’t let me.’
    ‘Who wouldn’t let you?’
    ‘GNN, Global News Network. They’ve blocked all broadcasts from the