Nina Collette looked out at her family and smiled. Today was a good day for her. On the surface, she looked the proud matriarch, but Beau knew there was a cunning underneath that motherly gaze. Silence pervaded the room. Every one of the twelve Doulos mages waited, bated breath, for the words they all needed to hear to keep going, to keep striving.
And for what? Beau asked himself internally as he downed his third glass of bubbles. A sympathizer pulled from the wall and refilled his raised glass. He paused before finishing it off in short order. For her so called peace? For her so called freedom? This fucking mantel was never meant for her anyway, but you won’t catch any one of these assholes not calling her a goddamn queen behind her back.
He raised his glass for a fifth and his mother’s matronly gaze alit upon him at the end of the table. The sympathizer hesitated to refill his glass. Oh, well fuck me then. Everyone else turned reproving eyes on him, but his mother’s expression of pride never wavered. Her smile was inert. The sympathizer filled his glass. Beau very deliberately broke eye contact with her and finished the wine off in two loud gulps.
His mother continued her speech--something about how proud she was to see her prodigal son return--something about how the revolution was at hand--something about how each one of them had contributed to their successes and the last twenty years of in-fighting had only made the clans stronger--blah, blah, blah. Beau needed to piss.
He got up from the table toward what sounded like the tail end of Nina’s pleasant little tyrade, but the Doulosi matriarch didn’t call him out in front of the others. Her was the honored guest, after all. She tarried on, regaining the focus of the Doulosi clan leaders as her speech meandered from verbal masterbation to self-effacing flagellation. Oh, yeah. Nina Collette’s a fuckin’ martyr alright… Queen? This isn’t a fucking court. It’s a circus.
Beau found some bathrooms toward the back of the villa and pissed a steady stream of hot relief, mulling over the mounting, precarious situation he found himself up to his tits in.
He shouldn’t have even been there, taint-deep in terrorist territory. He was an upstanding US-fucking-citizen after all, but there he was, breaking bread with America’s Most Wanted. And they knew what he really was and why he was really there. A prodigal son he may be, his true motive for returning to the fold was, well, two-fold. For one, his mother had invited him under rather mysterious pretenses, and for another, his very human boss in the very real, very sane part of the world where people paid taxes and complained about daytime television had asked him to spy on his Doulosi relatives on behalf of the Interceptor Corps.
At least he hoped these magical assholes knew what he was. His mother definitely knew. Nina had remarked on it as soon as he’d come off the Skystream shuttle and exchanged awkward salutations with her.
“Fifteen years,” she’d said, shaking her head with a smile. “I’ve missed you, Kiddo. You and the Interceptors listening into this conversation.”
“Sure… you do,” he’d said dismissively. “S-Save me the anticipation an’ t-tell them why y-you invited me to p-play house with you for… three fffucking weeks.” The stutter had been bad that day. Anger always made it worse.
“And spoil the surprise?” She had smirked in a way that Beau had never seen her smirk before, but then his memory of her had been skewed by fifteen years of built-up disdain and only a little bit of built-up regret.
So he’d followed after her with Boomer, his TV-turned-robot valet.
Two days later and here he was, pissing in a gold urinal within one of six powder rooms in a two-hundred year old villa sitting on the coast of Miami. He shook off, zipped, washed his hands, sprayed a little something out of one of the scent bottles on offer, and mumbled to himself: “They live like rats, just waiting to be flushed out of the pipes. Sure they are, Monroe. Sure they fuckin’ are. Skinny too, and uneducated. Not a single fucking brain between ‘em. That's how they've evaded capture for more than five fucking decades.” He pat his waves once over and checked his edges. He smiled, sterling teeth blazing in contrast to his skin. “God on Earth knows how these creatures have survived until now.” His smile disappeared as he regarded his reflection. He fixed his cuffs. “Disregard they that practice witchcraft, for they be slaves to their Devils’ ways…” He huffed a laugh and turned on his heel. Then he froze. “How long’ve you been standin’ there, Boom?”
Boomer regarded him with a tilted projector screen and its emotes laughed at him. It said, “Not long. Your mother’s looking for you in the gallery.” Then it flashed an image of him grinning at himself in the mirror, before emoting more laughter.
Beau waved a hand. “Fuckin’ delete that.”
As he pushed by to leave the bathroom, Boomer followed after him, saying, “But it’ll go nicely on your Facebook Wall. Are you sure you don’t want me to post it for you? You've only showcased three selfies where you are engaged in the act of smiling.” Its spindle feet sounded like an animal’s, clicking away at the marble as it dogged its master fondly.
“I’ll delete it for you if you don’t,” Beau warned as Boomer took the lead and they passed through a couple rooms full of mingling guest enjoying the live music and open bar. Dessert was over then, Beau figured. Then his mother will have started to drink. Thank God.
Boomer took him through a side hallway and gestured to an archway that disappeared into dim, thematic lighting. Beau gave his robot a questioning expression. Boomer said, “She told me she wanted to meet you alone, but I can override her directives.”
“No, wait here. I’ll whine the safeword if she tries to burn me.”
“Budapest?” Boomer asked.
“Fuckin’ Budapest,” Beau confirmed.
“Standing by.”
Beau jammed his hands into his pockets as he sauntered into the gallery. The drink had smoothed over his jagged temper. He even felt a small pang of remorse as he came around a corner and saw his mother dressed up in her green evening gown and emeralds. She had one hand resting on her lower back while the other swirled a tall flute of golden bubbles. Without turning, she spoke with a duplicitously bored voice, “You were always keen on painting. I never had time for it back then.”
“T-To busy… leading r-revolutions,” he said with a small laugh. He bit his tongue after that. The fucking stutter. Working with and around machines had truly spoiled him. Talking to people always brought it back to the surface--the anxiety about what to say next--the certainty that he would make a total idiot out of himself--the worry over whether or not he was being perfectly understood.
His mother turned toward him then and grinned sardonically. The smile actually reached her lined eyes this time. Nina Collette looked ten years younger than her staked fifty. She had high cheekbones and dark, ochre-toned skin. She still wore her signature lily scent even after all these years. She raised a sculpted eyebrow at him. “Revolution. For only ten letters, it carries the weight of ten lifetimes. Lifetimes are better spent on everything but revolutions.” She rolled the word around her mouth like she would a hairball. She took a swallow from her flute as if to wash it down. “What’s this one say to you?” she asked him as she gestured with her glass at the painting before them.
Beau didn’t care about art. He hadn’t cared about art since he was a kid; not since he had lived with his mother in Milwaukee. He’d given up art and cinema and writing to pursue research into technology yet uncreated by mankind--magical and mundane alike. He had thrown himself into creating what had only once been imagined--what had once been only dreamed--what had once only been whispered about. He had perfected his art and had explored places within the human mind that most neuromancers would salivate over the thought of discovering for themselves. He had experienced firsthand the limits of the flesh and had touched the future metal platform built for its glorious transcendence.
Beauregard Collette had seen the face of God in potential.
Nina regarded her son curiously as he gently took the flute from her hand and gulped it down in one go. Beau gave her the glass back with a small burp and said, “It’s just a b-bunch of fuckin’ paint, Mom.” He shoved his hands back in his pockets and went to leave.
“I’m dying, Beau” she said over her shoulder.
“No, you’re not,” he replied over his shoulder.
“Alright, I’m not… but don’t go yet. I was about to tell you why I invited you in the first place.” That got his attention. She was smirking when he turned on his heel and came back around to look at her expectantly. She laughed. “Beauregard, I’m working on a project and I have to go away for a while.”
“W-W-Project?” What kind of project? couldn’t get out of him fast enough.
She nodded and gave him a sidelong look. “I need you to watch over things here while I’m gone. You can do your spying where I know you’ll do no harm, and it’ll be good for you to get acquainted with your people.”
“My fuckin’ p-people,” he stated derisively. He shook his head. “You j-just don’t get it. There is no our p-p-p--ugh!” He made a frustrated sound and hissed, “I get paid a salary. I rent an a-a-apartment. I have a fffull-time job with b-benefits! And they--they know I’m Doulosi! My job depends on my magic. They need me… So… So, for the last t-time, Mom, there’s no fucking secret war going on.”
Nina Collette gave her son a cool smile. “Of course not. Not now. Right now, our people are simply bred into slavery. A paycheck makes no difference. They need you, but they don’t need you. They pay you for your magic, but you can’t vote. You can’t own property. You can’t marry them. You can’t live with other Doulosi.” She regarded him. “This is nothing new in the great span of our history. This is slavery, Beau-jangles.”
He was beyond frustrated. Now, he was simply angry. “D-Don’t fuckin’ call me--I’m not a, uh, fuckin’ kid, Mother!” The wine had hit him hard enough to bruise. He took his hands out of his pockets and gestured, begged as he said, “What I’m doing at K-Kinigos Industries is important! Are you rrrrreally going t-to write off my efforts for a fucking word? For fucking semantics?! We’re all only human.”
She shook her head then, a troubled look coming over her face like she couldn’t believe what he was saying to her--like she didn’t know him. “No. We’re not human. We were never human, Beau. And what you’re doing at that lab is nothing short of a betrayal… but you seem happy there. I can’t refute that at the very least.”
He turned away from her. “At the--? You’re imp-possible!”
“No, your perception is simply biased,” Nina insisted calmly. “But the embracing of one’s shackles is not freedom, Beau. If you would only take responsibility for your birthright, you--”
He rattled off words in quick succession--words he’d been wanting to tell her for more than a decade. His hands shook. The words came up out of him like bubbles breaking the surface of so many celebratory champagne flutes: “Freedom is buying anything without looking at the fucking price tag. Freedom is not considering something before doing it because you don’t fear the consequences. True, honest-to-God-freedom is bearing the responsibilities of your fucking station to the letter… and I’ll be damned if you were a good mother. You wanna talk freedom? You wanna talk shackles? Don’t you dare accuse me of not taking responsibility for a birthright I never asked for… when all I ever asked for… was for my mom to be there… when I needed her.”
He punctuated the end of his exhausted speech with a finger prodded right between her collarbones. He might have stabbed her with a real knife because she stumbled back from him all the same and only managed to keep upright by dropping her flute and bracing herself against the gallery wall. Thousands of shards expanded over the black marble, glittering like newborn stars in an infantile universe.
“You only…” Beau tried to find the right words again, but he felt deflated. He shook his head, balled his hands into fists. His voice sounded meek and petty now that he listened to himself, taking care to craft his next point as clearly as he could without saying anything he didn’t really mean. “Y-You only ever… c-call me… w-when you n-need something from me.” He met his mother’s stricken expression and asked gently, “And you d-don’t p-… p-pay me… so who is r-really the slave-driver, Mom?”
Nina eventually found her footing after what felt like an eternity to a drunk Beau. She took slow breaths to collect herself. Then she looked toward the painting on the wall and the glass covering the floor. She sighed. Then she said softly, “I’m sorry… for everything. And, I know that doesn’t make up for anything… But I am sorry.”
Beau nodded slowly. “Forgiven.”
“Really?” she asked timidly.
He scowled at her. “No.”
Her lip quivered. Beau wasn’t so far gone as not to notice. Then she glared at him, her mouth setting into a hard line. “You’re just like your father sometimes!” As Beau rattled off a dozen stuttered, angry responses, she shouted over him, “Yeah! Cruel! Unsympathetic! Selfish! Angry! Angry all the time! The world was so unfair to you! At least you have a mother! At least you had a father before you killed him! At least I still--!”
“Collette!” Both of them broke apart mid-insult, to stare at the newcomer in the gallery.
“Rob,” Beau stated dumbly.
“Oh, Robert, thank God! My voice of reason--Would you--?”
The cyborg stopped Nina with a raised hand and came close to pass a message to her, his lips brushing her cheek as he conferenced with her in as much privacy as their exposure could afford. Beau looked away from them, the heat from his anger turning into embarrassment. Robert “Robocop” Day Everyman had been his role model growing up. To be caught shouting at Rob’s paramour made him feel again like the angsty teenager he had supposedly outgrown by now. Leave it to alcoholism to really turn back the clock, he thought to himself morosely.
Nina nodded curtly and said to Beau with a pointed finger, “This isn’t over. I have something I need to attend to. Don’t leave the villa.”
Beau opened his mouth to say something about freedom again, but Robert fixed him with a disappointed look and he felt the bitterness ebb out of him like a popped cyst. He nodded in turn and said as politely as he could, “I’ll be here if y-you need someone to shout at sssome m-more.”
Nina stepped lightly over the broken glass and disappeared out the archway as she rounded the corner. Boomer tilted into view, giving Beau two thumbs-up of encouragement. When Beau didn’t reciprocate the gesture, the robot flashed BUDAPEST? in white letters across its projector screen. Beau shook his head at that. As much as he wanted someone to rescue him from the verbal lashing he was about to receive, he felt he deserved it at this point.
But instead of chastising Beau, Robert crushed him in a bear hug that made all his bones pop and his heart ache. “Holy shit, Kiddo! You’re almost as tall as me! What’ve those asshats in New York been feeding you, huh?” He dropped him unceremoniously and Beau caught himself on a frame of artwork.
“Nutri pills m-mostly,” he managed before he gave Robert a good once over. The man hadn’t changed much since Beau had run away from he and Doctor Cary at fifteen. Rob had long black hair pulled into a tie, streaked through with natural green undertones. The style covered the comm implant on the left side of his head, but Beau could still make out the dim green light since he was looking for it. Rob still sported his signature black beard, tidy and full to disguise a pockmarked shrapnel scar that covered the whole of his chin. His metal legs were concealed now by an expensive olive suit, tailored to hide them and his other augmentations. It had been difficult to tell how old Robert was growing up, and it still was to some extent. Luckily, Beau had since discovered the man’s real age from an intelligence dossier. Robert Everyman was allegedly sixty years old, but he didn’t look a day over thirty.
Robert pat him on the back and grinned. “Well, Cedar’s cooking oughta do you some good then, even if you’re only here for a bit.” He grew a little serious then as his smile wavered. “You and her still fight like cats and dogs. Didn’t think I’d live to see that again, to be honest… but I’m glad you’re here.”
Beau just nodded, not trusting himself to say one way or another if he agreed. He slipped his hands into his pockets then and asked, “What’s this p-project she’s been workin’ on?”
Robert snorted. “You wouldn’t believe me even if I knew the half of it, Kiddo, honest. She’s gone from survivor to ambassador in what feels like a heartbeat, but… It’s been ten years since you took off. We need to catch up.”
Beau pulled at his collar before returning his hand to his pocket. “Maybe--”
Robert made a declarative noise and grabbed him around the shoulders. “I know just the place! Let’s hit the lounge. There’s a minibar in there and we can smoke.”
“I d-don’t smoke,” Beau protested as Boomer fell in step behind him. He twisted to look back at it and he told the TV, “Go clean up the glass, Boom.”
“‘Course, Boss.” The robot dipped away.
“Well, you’re gonna share cigars with me today,” Robert said, roughing up Beau’s hair. The Doulosi made a yowl of protest as they headed upstairs via the grand staircase. “This is a special day. And not ‘cause Nina says it is, but because I say it is. It’s like homecoming, ya know? Maybe you won’t be staying long, granted, but… It’s just good to see you, Beau. It’s real good.”
When his mother said it, it sounded calculated, but when Robert--who had no reason to want or request the company of Beau’s presence--said it was a special day… Well, to Beau that made all the difference. Maybe it is a special day, he thought amenably.
When they entered the wood-paneled lounge, the sounds of the party below all but disappeared. Robert immediately when over to an in-wall sound system as Beau awkwardly looked around for an appropriate place to sit. Eventually, he sat on the edge of a brown leather chair and clasped his hands together. The door opened again behind them and Boomer padded in, its ticking feet making little noise on the plush carpet. Beau nodded at Boomer in greeting and the TV sat next to him, propping its spindly ivory feet up on the coffee table. Robert put on some Jazz at low-volume and went to a decanter set nearby. Bourbon and cigars in-hand, he sat across from Beau.
“No glass for me?” Boomer asked, trying to break the ice.
“Ha!” Robert made up another glass and passed it to the bot.
Boomer gave Beau a smug expression, then flicked a lighter out.
The robot lit their cigars. They cheersed silently, then relaxed.
Beau coughed.
The ice in Rob’s glass fell in on itself.
Eventually, Beau got up and refilled both the men’s glasses. At that juncture, the both of them shed their blazers and propped their feet up. Boomer gave them both an emote of approval.
Rob huffed a laugh under his breath as he remembered something.
Boomer sighed.
Beau’s chair made a squeaking protest as he shifted.
Robert got up again and refilled their glasses.
Boomer asked for more ice as Rob ashed his smoke.
Beau met the cyborg’s eyes and opened his mouth, but then closed it.
They both chuckled and returned to their personal ruminations.
Beau’s head felt foggy by the time the fourth glass graced his palm.
“Gotta piss,” he mumbled. Rob pointed toward a bookcase and told him to pull out Alice in Wonderland. Beau made little impressed, childish sounds as he tipped the false tome from the shelf and the bookcase swung outward on well oiled hinges. Boomer applauded the surprise using its projector face. When Beau came back, he asked Robocop how many more secret doors the lounge had. Robert only laughed, but Beau was glad for the mystery. It made it more likely that he would return to the lounge to look later.
Later. Beau took a sip before he slurred, “Robo, thanks for sssaving me back there, earlier.”
“With your mom?” Robert gave him a small smile. “Anytime… So long as you do the same for me from time to time.”
“‘Course!” Beau assured him. “Though… I feel like…” He took another sip. “What got her running so fffast?”
Robert got serious again. He looked away. “Uh… Let’s just say a guest of honor had arrived.”
“Thought I was the guest of honor?”
Robert hesitated before he laughed a little and said, “Look, this is your house too, Beau. Nina may call you a guest, but she’s just saying that. You… didn’t get to spend a whole lot of time growing up with her, but she does and says things for a reason. She knows you like your boundaries. She knows you like your order and your structure. So she tells you you’re a guest and you only need to be here for three weeks, because she thinks you won’t like it if she tells you that she wants you to stay here as long as you like as whatever you like… because you won’t stay. She gives you boundaries… She gives you a schedule… but she wants you here. Here. Period. Forever.”
“Wish I woulda known that while I was getting shuffled around the country all the damn time by you and Cary. I would’ve stayed if there had been any place to call home.”
“I know, Kiddo. I think about that all the time.”
“I wish she woulda stayed… with us, I mean.”
“I know. But it was dangerous. Nina, she… She regrets that a lot. She won’t ever say it straight out, but she regrets that a lot. But she… You know.”
“Guess we’ve all made our choices.”
Robert nodded, a little morose, and said, “But you’re here now. She hasn’t taken that for granted. She won’t. She’ll be kicking herself to her grave if she does.”
Beau shrugged, sinking deeper into the chair. “I’m done bein’ mad at her for now… So, what about this honored guest? Some big Doulosi hot shot?”
Again, Robert hesitated. Then, he narrowed his eyes a little and asked, “Is it true? You’re in the Interceptor’s pockets right now? Like, they cut a deal with you? You’re spyin’ on us?”
“Yeah, it’s true,” Beau said. “I get a new printer for my lab outta the deal. I’ve been wanting to print full-ssscale humanoid prototypes, but the largest printer we have right now is four cubic feet. We’ve been making unfoldables for the last three quarters, but I need something with a little more stabili--” He broke off suddenly and laughed a little to himself. “Doesn’t matter. They got a wire in my comm.” He tapped his left temple.
“New kind? There’s no, uh…” Robert tapped his lit comm.
“Subdermal.”
Robert whistled. “Expensive!”
“Work paid for it.”
“No shit? I thought… Doulosi can’t get their hands on that kinda tech. Not legally, anyway.” Robert gave his glass a troubled look. “What kinda work do you do exactly? Nina said you still make robots with your magic, but… are they military grade?”
“Not exactly,” Beau said with a small smile. “I mostly make surveillance drones and servants. Boomer’s the only militarized unit I’ve ever made, and you know he’s mine. There’ll never be another one like ‘im.” Boomer gave Robert a little salute. Robert gave it a little bow in return, smiling slightly. Robert had known Boomer since Beau’s early childhood, but Rob had never really discovered the full scope of the thin, skeleton-like creation’s abilities. In spite of that, Rob had never seen Beau and Boomer apart, at least not by accident. Boomer was an extension of his former ward. What Beau never said, Boomer shouted.
Beau continued, saying, “But I do other work too. I’ve been collaborating with this neuro and auramancer to… It… Um…” He smoothed a hand over his waves and clicked his tongue before he said, “It’s hard to wrap my own head around sometimes, but… You know how we can make copies of people’s brains? Upload them into bots and computers, give families a chance to say goodbye, keep experts and scientists for the benefit of all--you know--all that good stuff?”
“Yeah, but it’s just a copy, ain’t it? Like, it’s not like a transfer. You can’t make someone immortal with the process. It’s just to give survivors peace of mind. At least… that’s what they’ve been feeding the masses.”
“Part of my research is to discover a way to transfer someone’s soul.”
Robert laughed. “No kiddin’?”
“No kiddin’, but--” Beau finished his glass with a hiss. “-- gotta find me a soul, first.”
Robert took his glass, shook it for confirmation, and, having received it, proceeded to make yet another glass for the both of them. The decanter’s crystal top was left on the minibar’s lace doily, its partner bottle empty, misted over golden with old liquor stains.
Beau took the new glass, but paused before sipping. He asked, “So… I’m drunk. I’m very, very drunk… but you’re being evasive about thisss guest. Who was it, Robert? Why hide it?”
Robert sat heavily in the chair across him and let out a settling breath before he decided something internally. Over the lip of his own glass, he admitted, “The guest was supposed to be Emil Volya and his family.”
Beau’s breath caught. “The king in the ffflesh!” Oh boy, he thought. The Interceptor’s on the other end are probably loving this little revelation.
Robert shook his head sadly. “But…”
“But what? There’sss a but?”
“He didn’t come.”
Beau narrowed his eyes, genuinely confused. “Who… did then? His sister? The wife?”
“The son, but…”
Boomer asked suddenly, “Wait a minute, Emil Volya has a son?”
Beau put a hand over its projector and it batted him away as he asked incredulously, “Beside the point--There’s another but?”
Robert scratched at his comm. A strand of black hair came loose and he blew it out of his face. “Uh, he’s… strange.”
“Strange?” Boomer and Beau asked in stereo.
Robert nodded, but as he opened his mouth, there was a knock at one of the Lounge’s mystery doors. The cyborg stood and smoothed his vest, checked his chain, then nodded at Beau. “That’ll be Nina from the guest suite. You ready to meet him?”
Beau slowly stood up. “You got me blasted so I’d be less likely to get mad about something… and now I know what the something is.” When Robert gave him an expecting expression, Beau blew air through pursed lips. “You two were setting me up to meet someone from the start.”
Robert opened his mouth, but, again, he was cut short by a more foreceful rap at the unseen door. He simply nodded at Beau and gave the Doulos mage a shrug. “Can you blame your mother and I?”
Beau slammed back the last glass of brandy and wedged his cigar in his mouth. Boomer stood up and relit it for him. All the while, Beau stared his old keeper down. But then he simply sighed and let out a mouthful of smoke. “Fuck it. I’ve got nothin’ to lose… and it must be important enough that you’re willin’ to let the Interceptor Corps know all about it.” He ended on a rather sarcastic note, but Robert actually looked relieved at his words.
The cyborg went for the sound system and paused the music. Then he went to the adjacent bookcase and pulled down a copy of Sense and Sensibility. The bookcase swung outward quietly. The smell of gun oil and lilies hit Beau about the same time as the monotonous sound of burning magic did. It was different than Boomer’s magical signature. It was more raw than that. It thrummed like a recent, violently struck cord. Beau felt his skin break out in goosebumps. He had only ever encountered one other electromancer his entire life. She’d been seventy-nine, on her deathbed. She hadn’t been able to make two magnets touch if they’d sat on the same card table. But this…446Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8gVR8B67PF
This feels like my magic, he remarked silently. But it’s… wrong.446Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7qLmEqyzZ8
Nina Collette stepped into the lounge, closely followed by a seven foot tall obsidian colossus. Beau had to physically rub his eyes, but he wasn’t seeing anything untoward. There was genuinely a glossy, beetle-black, mirror-faced automaton ducking into the room. It looked around without any eyes. Beau felt a wash of arcana go over him as he felt the machine catalog the room with magic. The sentinel itself thrummed with electromancy from within. It smelled like a fucking war. Beau put an automatic hand to his open mouth.446Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvpzP681348
Nina actually smiled at Beau’s stricken expression. “Ah, excellent. The jacket’s off.” She gave Robert a curt, thankful nod and Robert returned the gesture with a secretive smile. Nina turned back to her son then and gestured at the gargantuan android with a manicured hand. “Beauregard Day Collette, this is Leonid Sinbad Volya.” She looked back at the metal suit and the thing had gone all but statuesque. Her smile was conniving, mirthful. She said, “He’ll be your right-hand man while I’m away. He’s the only one I trust with the job.”446Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡdtab65Wurb
Budapest, Beau tried to say through the tightening of his throat. Budapest, Budapest, Budapest.
ns13.58.25.33da2
