In the second it took me to subtly wipe his greasy sheen from my palm, Devlin had already turned his attention towards Ashley. This time there was no handshake, instead a triple cheek-kiss followed by an uncomfortably extended embrace. My eyes found Ash's, and we shared in a moment of revulsion at Devlin's disgusting display. Meanwhile, Dave wore an expression of annoyance: apparently unworthy of even a clammy handshake from the tech giant.
"My dear, you are absolutely ravishing." Devlin cooed, and I swear he licked his lips as he did so. Ash visibly shuddered, repugnant, but Devlin seemed not to notice. If anything, the slight curl of his lip indicated he misread her motion as a sign of quivering affection.
"Mr. Devlin sir, we were hoping to ask you a few questions..." I began to say, desperately attempting to steer his focus away from the unwilling object of his advances. I'd met men like him before, in the pubs and clubs, cretins who see women as little more than a slab of meat displayed in a butcher's window. A prize for the plundering. I'd even received a black eye or two from stepping between such a dick and the woman he was intimidating. With Devlin, my efforts were wasted though. He barely registered my comments, busy as he was staring at Ash, mentally tracing the curves of her face.
I may not state it often enough, but Ash is a damn fine person, one of the strongest, composed and intelligent I've ever met. While she was dealing with a leering, lecherous lickspittle and Dave and I were failing to free her from him, she was busy thinking of the mission. Her eyes flicked towards me, for a split second, before darting downwards. Her meaning was apparent: "While Devlin is preoccupied, get his bloody security pass so we can escape and explore, preferably as far from his greedy fingers as possible". I nodded back, acknowledging her instruction as she imperceptibly held back an urge to retch. Devlin was spouting some inane French poetry, butchering it with a 'seductive' accent that sounded akin to a diesel engine chewing marmalade.
Dexterity and sleight of hand are far from my forte, but I can be surreptitious on occasion. Dave can attest to it, the amount of times I've stolen pens from literally under his nose during lectures. Once, I even managed to pluck the glasses from his face without him realising. Of course, vodka was involved, and... but I digress. Summoning my inner Derren Brown, I positioned myself behind Devlin and gently reached for his belt, and the crocodile clip which affixed the pass to it. I needn't have worried, he was so lost in his advances I doubt he'd have felt an actual crocodile rummaging near his crotch. With a careful motion I pulled the tag free, holding it up momentarily in Ash's eyeline before depositing it discreetly into my breast pocket.
Seconds later, Ash seemed to lose her footing, stumbling on her stilettos. A convincing act, during which she made sure to splash the contents of her champagne flute onto herself.
"Oh dear! Whoops, clumsy me! How unfortunate. Well, I'd better go clean myself up." She exclaimed in one hurried breath, attempting to push past Devlin. He held out an arm, blocking her path.
"Nonsense, nonsense. Allow me to assist. Feel free to use my suite; you can take a shower, get out of those damp and sticky clothes, I'm sure my assistant can find something more comfortable for you to slip into." His words, laced with sinister intent, made my skin crawl. I could only imagine what Ashley was feeling.
"Mr. Devlin, sir? Ah. There you are." A flat and monotonous female voice called from across the room. Following the voice to its source, I saw a hard edged woman in formal dress and holding a tablet, obviously a secretary or PR guru of some kind. She strode briskly towards Devlin, all but ignoring us.
"Sir, the photographers are waiting outside. We're behind schedule as it is."
As she spoke, she adjusted her glasses, re-positioning them on the bridge of her nose. That's when I realised. She was wearing an advanced version of the Tech-Specs. Like me, she was a potential puppet of the Nestene Consciousness.
Devlin mused on her statement before reluctantly conceding to her.
"The public awaits me, unfortunately. But do hang around. I'd like to see more of you tonight." He said, kissing the back of Ash's hand before turning to follow his assistant out of the hall. As he left, the focus of the room turned outwards, towards the array of paparazzi outside. Ash shook like a wet dog, vainly trying to rid herself of Devlin's creep. After a few calming breaths, she turned to Dave and I, and said: "Can we please get out of here?"
Together, we slipped away from the crowd into the secured product display room, with the help of Devlin's pass.
The exhibition room contained twenty or so cubicles, divided by partitions plastered in DevlinTech logos. Each cubicle contained a desk, a pair of Tech Specs, and a user guide, along with gift bags containing other promotional sundries. On the far side of the room was a small stage, with a laptop set up atop a lectern. Presumably, this is where Devlin would talk through the demonstrations.
"Where should we start?" Dave asked as he looked around the room.
"Call me naive, but I was kind of hoping to see a smoking gun or something here..." Ash replied. "This is literally just a product launch."
"Don't give up before even trying." I chided, as I strode to the lectern. "If anything here contains incriminating evidence, it's Devlin's personal laptop."
"It'll probably just be full of fetish crap, the creepy bastard." Dave laughed.
"Besides" I continued, as I bent down towards the laptop screen, "We saw Pimp Popeye slink in here when we first arrived at the party. If he's nosing around, then surely there's something worth hiding in here." Pimp Popeye was the name we'd given to the strange character we first glimpsed while hunting Weevils by the docks. So named for his grizzled Aran fisherman getup, supplemented with a battered leather duster hemmed with leopard print trim.
"Oh yeah!" Ash exclaimed. "After dealing with Devlin, I'd forgotten about the Sleazy Seaman." Ash was concerned, and so was I. We were both beginning to wonder where he had vanished to.
"Never call him that again." Dave said, feigning disgust.
"Listen to your pal." Came a sudden voice from behind us. I whirled around in time to see a leather clad figure emerge from behind one of the partitions. I considered rushing him, but froze as my eyes landed on the gun he was pointing in our direction.
"Name calling isn't very nice." He said, smirking, before pulling his trigger three times.
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