Chapter 82: The False Promise
Harlan Sterling took two steps down the curving marble staircase, pausing where the lantern light struck the silver embroidery along the lapels of his naval coat. He rested his right hand against the brass balustrade, letting the heavy iron fire poker lean against the stone riser beside his boots. The cold in the foyer was a physical weight pressing against the skulls of the thirty five survivors huddled below, but Harlan held his spine rigid, refusing to let the tremors in his knees show beneath the heavy wool trousers.
He waited until the shuffling of boots and the desperate whispers among the men died down into a strained, breathless silence.
The former corporate directors, judges, and shipping brokers stared up at him through watering, soot rimed eyes,
