"What the fuck is that?" I turned and saw a half dozen or so people at the kitchen table, playing poker. I was a little taken back with the woman who had asked the question. She was right about Cheryl's age, late twenties, and her thick auburn hair seemed to exist for no other reason than to accentuate her emerald green eyes and her perfectly tanned and unblemished skin - and quite a lot of skin there was. It was the middle of both January a cocktail party, and yet she was wearing khaki shorts and a wife-beater that was clearly a size or two too small. Her "outfit" left no question as to what that body would like naked, and what that body would look like naked was perfect. I was instantly smitten. "I said what the fuck is that?" she motioned with her hand to the bottles I'd placed on the counter. "Um... Wine?" I tried, unsure of her meaning. "Yeah, well let me know when you're ready to start drinking like a man," she drawled, lifting a half-full bottle of Basil Hayden. She did. I had noticed the wedding ring on her finger. I beckoned to the factory production manager. ‘Alan,’ I said. ‘I am pulling that girl off the line just before two and her forewoman at three. Make sure the line is covered.’ ‘Yes, Mr Andrews. Will do.’ He wanted to ask why. I let him sweat. When I had finished lunch in the factory canteen, eating the same food in the same conditions as any of the employees, I dismissed my entourage and went to the Personnel Department. They had the small conference room ready for me and Eleyna’s personnel file. I read it and found what I didn’t really want to find. Some of her paperwork was forged. They were good forgeries but I had seen too many, more than the Personnel people at this one factory. I stood up when Eleyna was shown in. The conference room had double-glazing to half of the walls. The staff in the Personnel Department could see us but not hear what we said. There was a recording facility for audio and video. I hadn’t switched it on. I asked.
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