“This was one of the few things that gave him anything like peace: sunset, and the sound of grand-children laughing. "Sir?" Behind him came the voice of his valet. The Well-Manicured Man continued to stare out the window, smiling. "Sir, you have a call." He turned to see his valet holding open the conservatory door. For a moment the Well-Manicured Man remained, gazing wistfully at the idyllic vista below. Finally he headed toward his study. The twilight seemed deeper here, laven-der shadows dark...ening to violet where book-cases mounted from floor to ceiling and all the trappings of wealth lay accumulated and forgotten in the corners and on the walls. The Well-Manicured Man ignored all of these, striding to a desk by the window where a telephone blinked insistently. He picked it up, positioning himself so that he could con-tinue to look down upon his grandchildren playing tag. "Yes," he said. From the other end of the line came a familiar voice, smoke-strained, laconic. "We have a situation.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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