mirror in the hall. It fit nicely behind the couch, with the reflective, elf-displaying side facing the wall. That should confuse anyone who cared to look. I draped a towel over the vanity mirror and pulled the bathroom door shut, just in case.
It was nearly two before I turned out the light. Work was going to come damn early.
Fourteen
Frederick Sawyer paced outside room 100 of the Multnomah County building. The halls bustled with bureaucrats, law enforcement, and common citizens, who were starting their workweek with the usual apathy he expected from thralls.
The planning commission was due to begin within the next half hour, and Frederick was here to determine why his project continued to be delayed. This delay had gone on for over four months and was costing him hundreds of thousands of dollars in lost wages and revenues.
Delays of this sort were not uncommon, but this smelled of interference and meddling beyond the simple need of bureaucrats to create further bureaucracy.
Frederick was not one to let the rage take him, even when faced with an obstacle that could cost him a large sum of money. There were others of his kind that would hunt down those who offended them, shred their bodies with tooth and talon, burn the remains to ash, and scatter the dust to the winds with the beat of their mighty wings.
His breathing was a little too hard, he realized. Perhaps the pseudo-metaphor was a bit too close to the truth. The drones on the planning commission did not make the laws. It was just their job to implement the will of the state and federal authorities, as well as the Multnomah commissioners.
His pride still stung from that incident in Seattle over the movie studio. It galled him that his investment of time and money would be in Nidhogg’s hands. Rumor had it part of it went to that smith, Beauhall. She was an interesting one. He smiled. He’d be keeping an eye on her and her clan, that’s for sure. Perhaps the investment would bear fruit of a different flavor. There was always his influence over the young actor Montgomery. His loyalty was easily maintained. He may not have an open hand in the movie studio, but he had his claw on the pulse, so to speak.
Now, if he just could get his hands on that bloody sword. That was a trifle worth his estimable time—an echo in the ether that set his teeth on edge.
But back to the business at hand. This office park was costing him a fortune with every delay. The commission was sympathetic to his plight, as his design followed the density plans, as well as provided green space and a dedicated place for the county to use for social services—mainly homeless services. Frederick knew where his bread was buttered. Toss the bureaucrats a few crumbs and they would follow you to hell.
He only just noticed how the rest of the visitors and participants of the commission had drifted from him, giving him a wide berth. Has my anger grown so obvious? he thought.
From the back of the milling crowd, Frederick caught sight of his able servant, Mr. Philips. The dapper man traversed the throng with quiet aplomb.
Frederick stopped his pacing, straightened his collar and cuffs, and crossed his hands behind his back. “Mr. Philips,” he said, once the man had breached the final cadre of government officials. “I hope you bear me good news.”
Mr. Philips did not betray his emotional state, but he never had. Frederick had no wish to play poker with the man. Stone cold to a fault, that fellow.
“I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news,” Mr. Philips said, stopping before his master and pulling a small notepad from his breast pocket.
Frederick waited, not wanting to appear too impatient or draw the attention of any of the nearby individuals.
“First,” Mr. Philips said, making a small check on his notepad with a short pencil, “the problem with the construction seems to be the state of our major contractor’s insurance.”
Frederick kept his face impassive, but he could feel
It was nearly two before I turned out the light. Work was going to come damn early.
Fourteen
Frederick Sawyer paced outside room 100 of the Multnomah County building. The halls bustled with bureaucrats, law enforcement, and common citizens, who were starting their workweek with the usual apathy he expected from thralls.
The planning commission was due to begin within the next half hour, and Frederick was here to determine why his project continued to be delayed. This delay had gone on for over four months and was costing him hundreds of thousands of dollars in lost wages and revenues.
Delays of this sort were not uncommon, but this smelled of interference and meddling beyond the simple need of bureaucrats to create further bureaucracy.
Frederick was not one to let the rage take him, even when faced with an obstacle that could cost him a large sum of money. There were others of his kind that would hunt down those who offended them, shred their bodies with tooth and talon, burn the remains to ash, and scatter the dust to the winds with the beat of their mighty wings.
His breathing was a little too hard, he realized. Perhaps the pseudo-metaphor was a bit too close to the truth. The drones on the planning commission did not make the laws. It was just their job to implement the will of the state and federal authorities, as well as the Multnomah commissioners.
His pride still stung from that incident in Seattle over the movie studio. It galled him that his investment of time and money would be in Nidhogg’s hands. Rumor had it part of it went to that smith, Beauhall. She was an interesting one. He smiled. He’d be keeping an eye on her and her clan, that’s for sure. Perhaps the investment would bear fruit of a different flavor. There was always his influence over the young actor Montgomery. His loyalty was easily maintained. He may not have an open hand in the movie studio, but he had his claw on the pulse, so to speak.
Now, if he just could get his hands on that bloody sword. That was a trifle worth his estimable time—an echo in the ether that set his teeth on edge.
But back to the business at hand. This office park was costing him a fortune with every delay. The commission was sympathetic to his plight, as his design followed the density plans, as well as provided green space and a dedicated place for the county to use for social services—mainly homeless services. Frederick knew where his bread was buttered. Toss the bureaucrats a few crumbs and they would follow you to hell.
He only just noticed how the rest of the visitors and participants of the commission had drifted from him, giving him a wide berth. Has my anger grown so obvious? he thought.
From the back of the milling crowd, Frederick caught sight of his able servant, Mr. Philips. The dapper man traversed the throng with quiet aplomb.
Frederick stopped his pacing, straightened his collar and cuffs, and crossed his hands behind his back. “Mr. Philips,” he said, once the man had breached the final cadre of government officials. “I hope you bear me good news.”
Mr. Philips did not betray his emotional state, but he never had. Frederick had no wish to play poker with the man. Stone cold to a fault, that fellow.
“I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news,” Mr. Philips said, stopping before his master and pulling a small notepad from his breast pocket.
Frederick waited, not wanting to appear too impatient or draw the attention of any of the nearby individuals.
“First,” Mr. Philips said, making a small check on his notepad with a short pencil, “the problem with the construction seems to be the state of our major contractor’s insurance.”
Frederick kept his face impassive, but he could feel
Similar Books
