"You're not married, Miss Morrow."
"No, sir. I am not."
"It wasn't a question. One doesn't need to be a detective to see you have no ring. Had you worn one at your interview, your candidacy would have been impossible. I won't abide one of my operatives serving two masters. My experiment..." He stopped short, registering her frown. "Yes, you are my experiment, Miss Morrow. Oh, I know all about Allan's dabbling with a so-called Women's Detective Division. All that Kate Warne business. But I don't run the Prescott Agency like those fellows over at Pinkerton. This is a professional operation. And it will remain such."
Harriet bit her tongue. Was Prescott suggesting his agency's professionalism was at risk by employing a woman field operative? If that was how he felt, why hire her at all? "You should speak with Mr. Somer before you depart for Mrs. Bartlett's. He can offer a few insights to save you time once you're there. You'll also need to become versed in how we issue reports and conduct operations around here. Protocols, Miss Morrow, are to be followed without exception. For that, ask Mr. McCabe. Like you, he is a junior, but McCabe has two years under his belt, more than ample experience to convey the fundamentals. I've yet to decide the best approach for your broader training—surveillance, undercover operations, criminal law, how we inform and conduct our work alongside the police. You've much to learn, but one step at a time. Unpreparedness in some lines of work might result in a paper cut or a twisted ankle, but for a detective, a wrong move might get your throat slit. Do I make myself clear, Miss Morrow?"
As Harriet nodded, Prescott opened a file on his desk and began to read, leaving her standing uncertainly in front of his desk for several seconds.
"That will be all," he said, eyes still fixed on the document before him.
As she reached for the door handle, he added, "Time is money, Miss Morrow. Don't dilly-dally with Mrs. Bartlett. I'm sure it will amount to nothing. Do not prove me wrong."
Outside Prescott's office, with no sign of Madelaine, Harriet returned to the lobby.
"Hello, again," Harriet said to the receptionist. "I really could use your help. You don't happen to know where I might find Mr. Somer or Mr. McCabe?"
"Mr. Somer? Mr. McCabe?" The receptionist frowned.
Had Harriet not witnessed the woman's apprehension before, she might think her a halfwit.
"I can show you to the detectives' offices, but I must be quick about it. I shouldn't leave the lobby unattended."
Walking in the direction opposite Prescott's office, they first passed a room with three young men sitting at desks. "Clerks," the receptionist explained, tilting her blond head toward them. They then entered a long corridor with offices on either side. The doors' frosted panes had been stenciled with the name of each occupant along with titles ranging from junior field operative on the interior side to senior field operative on the window side.
"I trust you can find your way from here. I really must get back." And with that, she turned and left Harriet alone in the hallway.
Someone occupying one of the detectives' offices didn't consider it too early to smoke a pipe. Harriet fanned the air in front of her nose before considering how the gesture might appear to others. First impressions were indelible. She couldn't have anyone branding her as delicate or overly sensitive. Moving down the hallway, her head swiveled right to left, reading the names painted in simple black lettering on the doors. Charles was most common; there were three of them, along with two Josephs, one Walter, one Leonard, one Frank, and finally a name she was looking for: MATTHEW MCCABE, under which was stenciled, JUNIOR FIELD OPERATIVE. Harriet held back from knocking; she first wanted to find Carl Somer's office. She didn't have far to look; it was the next and last one in the corridor.
A knock on Carl's door met with silence. He was either late to arrive or had already come and gone. She stepped back to Matthew McCabe's door. As she raised a hand to knock, a voice said, "Come in. It's open."
