nursing the sting of his hand.
“Take it,” she ordered.
He held out his hand and she dropped a heavy coin in
it. It was silver with deep etchings. It looked ancient. One
side held old Slavic writings. He turned it over in his hand,
lazily. On the opposite side was an engraving of a dragon, awful and
terrible with three heads. He looked up at Violet gazing at him as if she
expected something.
The world around him narrowed to the interior of the
vehicle, the heat blowing on his face from the vent above his head, the glow of
the laptop as the daylight outside waned, and Violet’s eyes. They seemed
black, her face like a harpy or a medusa.
Lars was right. It was a long trip.
Chapter 12
Quantum of Malice
“Do you think they told him?” Giselle asked, the slim
cigarette held delicately between her fingers.
“I suppose they must,” Clarence said.
“I presume he will hate me now,” she complained.
“He will not remember.” Clarence sat facing her.
He held a slender leather briefcase on his lap. It had gold clasps.
“How long is our drive?”
“An hour. We will fly from
Syracuse.”
Giselle stared out the window glumly.
“I do so much hate snow.”
Clarence remained silent. He was so polite. So professional. She hated him, too. She watched
him through slitted eyes and white-grey smoke.
She shook the ashes of her cigarette onto the floor of the SUV. The
guards in front and back could not hear them through the glass that separated
the compartments. Bullet-proof and soundproof on all
sides. She felt like she was sentenced to prison.
“Will my father require me to quit my position at Sinegem?”
Clarence clucked his tongue, cleared his throat and then
sighed heavily. He did not enjoy being questioned. Or perhaps he
hates me as much as I hate him, she thought. She had tried on
occasion to flirt with him, show him some leg, some cleavage, breathe on him huskily. He was iron, cold and
distant. Or gay. Or a eunuch.
She had literally no power over him other than the fact that her father paid
him handsomely for his services.
“Your father will undoubtedly want you to remain. I
did not speak to him about this. You should pose this concern to him
yourself. I am merely here to retrieve you.”
She arched her eyebrows.
“I see. You are a golden retriever and I am a
bone. Is that it?”
He ignored her while staring directly at her. He had a
talent for that. He reminds me of my brother, Geirmund , Giselle thought wistfully .
“Did Mr. Monday accept your offer?” He asked
instead. His decidedly British face and voice betrayed no emotion.
It was as if he had an overdose of botox treatments
and a robot voicebox .
Giselle squirmed in the heated leather seat. She still
wore the trench coat she had been given aboard the jet. She liked the way
the wool scratched at her wrists. It reminded her of the way the nicotine
felt as it entered her lungs.
“No. But it does not matter. Sinegem will hire
Galbraith Alliance to perform this. And they will use Mr. Monday for this
assignment. I will see to it. The farce to which I was subjected
was performed for just such a reason as this.”
Clarence smirked and then nodded.
“I bow to your wisdom and foresight, Ms. Giselle.”
He was mocking her. She felt her anger rise in her
throat.
“I did not spend three days at sea bundled up in a wool
sweater and rubber boots to have you mock my plans, Clarence,” she said as she
emphasized her point by stabbing the cigarette at him.
He blinked and raised his eyebrows.
“Actually, your plans are sound. However, Mr. Nicholaisen will not be pleased to hear that the man who
was so instrumental to his incarceration is not closer at hand.”
She tried to temper her fear and her hatred long enough to
get an answer to a question that had bothered her for weeks.
“Have we discovered who hired Galbraith Alliance to
embarrass my
“Take it,” she ordered.
He held out his hand and she dropped a heavy coin in
it. It was silver with deep etchings. It looked ancient. One
side held old Slavic writings. He turned it over in his hand,
lazily. On the opposite side was an engraving of a dragon, awful and
terrible with three heads. He looked up at Violet gazing at him as if she
expected something.
The world around him narrowed to the interior of the
vehicle, the heat blowing on his face from the vent above his head, the glow of
the laptop as the daylight outside waned, and Violet’s eyes. They seemed
black, her face like a harpy or a medusa.
Lars was right. It was a long trip.
Chapter 12
Quantum of Malice
“Do you think they told him?” Giselle asked, the slim
cigarette held delicately between her fingers.
“I suppose they must,” Clarence said.
“I presume he will hate me now,” she complained.
“He will not remember.” Clarence sat facing her.
He held a slender leather briefcase on his lap. It had gold clasps.
“How long is our drive?”
“An hour. We will fly from
Syracuse.”
Giselle stared out the window glumly.
“I do so much hate snow.”
Clarence remained silent. He was so polite. So professional. She hated him, too. She watched
him through slitted eyes and white-grey smoke.
She shook the ashes of her cigarette onto the floor of the SUV. The
guards in front and back could not hear them through the glass that separated
the compartments. Bullet-proof and soundproof on all
sides. She felt like she was sentenced to prison.
“Will my father require me to quit my position at Sinegem?”
Clarence clucked his tongue, cleared his throat and then
sighed heavily. He did not enjoy being questioned. Or perhaps he
hates me as much as I hate him, she thought. She had tried on
occasion to flirt with him, show him some leg, some cleavage, breathe on him huskily. He was iron, cold and
distant. Or gay. Or a eunuch.
She had literally no power over him other than the fact that her father paid
him handsomely for his services.
“Your father will undoubtedly want you to remain. I
did not speak to him about this. You should pose this concern to him
yourself. I am merely here to retrieve you.”
She arched her eyebrows.
“I see. You are a golden retriever and I am a
bone. Is that it?”
He ignored her while staring directly at her. He had a
talent for that. He reminds me of my brother, Geirmund , Giselle thought wistfully .
“Did Mr. Monday accept your offer?” He asked
instead. His decidedly British face and voice betrayed no emotion.
It was as if he had an overdose of botox treatments
and a robot voicebox .
Giselle squirmed in the heated leather seat. She still
wore the trench coat she had been given aboard the jet. She liked the way
the wool scratched at her wrists. It reminded her of the way the nicotine
felt as it entered her lungs.
“No. But it does not matter. Sinegem will hire
Galbraith Alliance to perform this. And they will use Mr. Monday for this
assignment. I will see to it. The farce to which I was subjected
was performed for just such a reason as this.”
Clarence smirked and then nodded.
“I bow to your wisdom and foresight, Ms. Giselle.”
He was mocking her. She felt her anger rise in her
throat.
“I did not spend three days at sea bundled up in a wool
sweater and rubber boots to have you mock my plans, Clarence,” she said as she
emphasized her point by stabbing the cigarette at him.
He blinked and raised his eyebrows.
“Actually, your plans are sound. However, Mr. Nicholaisen will not be pleased to hear that the man who
was so instrumental to his incarceration is not closer at hand.”
She tried to temper her fear and her hatred long enough to
get an answer to a question that had bothered her for weeks.
“Have we discovered who hired Galbraith Alliance to
embarrass my
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