The untraceable handset's digital face flickered with a low, steady, green glow, giving Zeth Richason's pale, sweat-slicked face a sickly, mechanical hue. The doors behind him were casel's heavy brass double doors, and the hush that he left had started to crackle in the frame of the Vienna board room.
Christian saw him across the long mahogany table, suddenly standing up, narrowed piercing grey eyes. Christian's voice was so deep that he seemed as if he were a professional from the office, but it had the undertones of a warning. His deep voice had a dry, professional tone as he began to pack his sturdy, secure satellite gear into a stylish leather briefcase. “The land has changed, “the person calling the line that particular line is playing with the data of the past regime.”
The velvet v
