The room’s barrenness resembled a canteen for soldiers on leave from a war against terrorism that hadn’t left them, he noticed, whose worsening violence he had seen yet hadn’t seen. And these exhausted would work for him?
The buzzer next to the red wall phone beside the door sounded two times, then stopped. Leclair lunged left to answer. “Paul speaking. I’m sorry. Gwen’s at Club Narcissus for the evening.” There was a pause. “In that case, try Pandora’s Box.” His face brightened, and he cupped the receiver. “It’s Zidi,” he said in triumph across to Stanislas. Then back to his agent. “Come up. We’re waiting.”
From a closed-circuit television monitor on the metal table to his left, Stanislas watched Zidi grasp the railing. He saw him pull himself up step by labored step, the first, the sec
