Page 83 of Mission: Possible

"Is the competition held every year?" I asked, making a note. "And is it free to enter?"

The man sighed as if my questions were irritating him. "Yes, every year. I think the contestants have to write a short essay about a personal experience they've had involving the theater."

"You mean, as an actor?" I asked, more confused now.

"Last year's winner wrote about her first time seeing a musical, which was a treat from her grandparents. Like I said, any personal experience with the theater. You can find all the links to the winning entries on our website."

I tapped my pen against the notepad. What if Sophie simply won her ticket? "Do you have a list of past winners?"

"You can also find that information on our website."

"Thanks so much for your time."

"Have a wonderful day," he sighed before hanging up.

I called up a new tab on my browser and searched for The Playhouse. The gala had its own subheading and it didn't take me long to find the answer. Sophie didn't win a ticket and neither did Zach. Nor was she given them by the actual winners who were all pictured in their evening dress at the events in the galleries. I checked the patron list too but didn't find any names I recognized.

Drawing a large question mark on my notepad, I moved onto my next call: Austen's secretary, Katrina Halliday. I felt weird about asking her probing questions regarding her boss but I couldn't ignore the lead. Zach raised the issue of her and Austen having an extracurricular relationship, although he could have simply been throwing out wild accusations. But that didn't mean there wasn't an element of truth despite Austen's counterclaim.

"Austen told me to expect you," she said, answering the phone. "Would you like to come by the office to talk?"

I blinked, surprised at the warmth in her voice. I expected her to be surly and insulting, or even cautious. "Yes, that would be great."

"If you could come now, it would fit well into my schedule. I have a meeting at three."

"I'll get a cab and join you..."

"Don't trouble yourself," she interrupted, "just tell me where you are and I'll send a car over. Austen said I should assist you in any way you need."

"Thank you!"

By the time I stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the agency, a black town car with tinted windows was idling at the curb. A man with black hair and a neat beard, dressed in a black suit and narrow black tie, stepped out and opened the door for me. "Ms. Graves?" he said, indicating he already knew my identity and was inviting me to get into the car.

"Thanks," I said, eager to enter as elegantly as I could, which would have gone so much better if I hadn't hit my head on the ceiling. The chauffeur pretended not to notice as he shut the door. While I buckled my seatbelt, he climbed into the driver's seat.

"If you would like some water or another beverage, you will find an assortment inside the central panel," he said, merging into the traffic before I could blink.

"Are you Austen's personal chauffeur?" I asked.

"I work exclusively for the firm but I am not his personal chauffeur as such," he explained. "The firm retains a small number of vehicles for the use of staff and clients when situations are not conducive for public transportation."

"Do you ever drive Austen?"

"Many times."

"What do you think of him?"

"He's a good boss," he said without hesitation.

"In what sense?"

"He remembers my name and never talks down to me. He even offered me other, more lucrative opportunities but mostly, I just like driving."

"What kind of opportunities?"

"He hired a tutor for any members of the staff who don't have a GED. I got mine. Some decide to take more college classes, which he also encourages, but like I said, I prefer driving. I'm good at it and I like being around cars."

"Have you met his wife, Sophie?"