“He was broad and blocky, and looked like he could easily handle himself in a physical confrontation. Sandy-colored hair, cut short, framed his face. He looked freshly shaved, his jaw gleaming. Dark green eyes that held a reptilian cast gazed around the shop. His pearl-gray suit was Italian. So were the black loafers.“Good morning, Roland,” Lesauvage said. His voice was low and rumbling.“I haven’t any more books for you, sir.” Roland was a gray ghost of a man. Life had pared him down to skin and... bone long ago. But he was attentive, intelligent and quick. He barely topped five feet.“I knew that,” Lesauvage said. “If you’d found any, you’d have sent them along.”“Yes, sir. I would have.”“I came today only to browse.” Lesauvage studied the stacks, but his cold eyes never found Annja in the shadows. “Is anyone else about?” he asked.“A guest, Mr. Lesauvage.” Roland never called the prospective buyers who entered his establishment customers. Always guests.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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