“Lieutenant,” I said with just a hint of a pant.
Habre studied me for half a second. My gi wasn’t quite sweat-soaked any more—the station’s air conditioning had dried most of it out, but I still reeked of hard work. “Are you in condition to go out?”
“I’m fine.” I had downed the bladder of water in the elevator. “Bad timing, that’s all.” I’d met the other two Congolese security officers briefly, and scrabbled for their names. “Bapa. Ramazani. Nice suits.”
Ramazani’s smile barely cracked the granite of his face. Bapa nodded her chin a millimeter, no sign of the good cheer she’d had during our first meeting.
“Let me grab a suit,” I said, slipping into the side room.
The smallest Congolese suit fit me, barely. I really needed the next size down, but the Congolese are all giants next to me
