Page 25 of Collateral Claim
A white lollipop stick protrudes from his mouth, and as I watch, he moves it to the side with his tongue. One of his eyes is light brown, the other, blue like Connor’s. This must be Connor’s twin, Declan.
He gives me a once-over. “Hi.”
“Good morning.”
“Where to?” he asks.
Is he a guard or a guide? Or both. Maybe neither. I have no idea. “I would like some coffee.”
“I can have it brought up.”
“And breakfast?”
“Anything you want.”
“Do you think I could eat downstairs?” I don’t want to remain in my room, but I won’t go near Endo’s wing of the house either.
“The morning room?”
“Sounds lovely.”
With a wicked smile, the man leads me down the marble steps. He’s tall and lithe, built like a swimmer, and he moves fast. In a rush to catch up with him, I pass the housekeeper, who is mopping. I slip and slide down the last two steps but catch myself on the railing at the last minute before I bust my tailbone or, worse, the back of my skull.
Endo comes around the corner. “Are you okay?”
He’s wearing black slacks and a crisp white shirt. He smells fresh and appears rested. Unlike me, who looks and feels crappy. Besides, this is the second time I tripped in front of him, and I’m not even clumsy. Or at least I don’t think I am. Am I?
“I didn’t see the wet spot,” I say.
Endo smirks. “Do I have to carry you the rest of the way?”
I stride into the room to my right, having no clue if that’s the way toward the dining room. “I’m fine, thank you.”
Endo’s footsteps echo behind me. “Want to have brunch with me?”
“I just want some coffee.” I walk into a sunlit room with tall windows and an array of tropical plants on the left. Amber wallpaper surrounds the space. In the center is a small round table encircled by four antique chairs.
“This is my morning room,” Endo says.
Traditionally, women used morning rooms for tranquil time spent gossiping with family about the townspeople. Back in the fourteen hundreds and for many centuries after, women seldom worked, and if they lived in this house, it meant they were wealthy. Social networking, as it existed back then, was part of their job. Along with marrying off their children into other wealthy families.
Endo sits at the breakfast nook near the windows. He rolls up his sleeves and picks up a cigar. The unlit cigar hangs between his lips as he spreads the newspaper served along with his coffee.
“Sit here.” While reading the paper, he kicks one of the two green chairs set in front of the nook. The chair glides away from the table as if pulled out for me. I believe that is his intention.
I sit on the plush bench across from Endo.
He puts the unlit cigar into a clean crystal ashtray and folds the paper to the side. “Coffee?” He pours before I answer.
There’s a stack of papers on the table. The top paper shows a handwritten list in my mother’s native tongue. She taught me the language and the alphabet they write in that’s different from ours.
C4 400 kg wireless deton
AK - 150,000 units (at least 1/10 with suppressors)
M67051 - Balan variants
Strela-2…
