"Pardon me, sir?" Hennessy says, and if he were human, I'd say he was faking innocence.
"Nathan wasn't stupid," I say. "He managed to pull the wool over Rutherford's eyes and hide all his dirty business deals. He probably had no idea what he was walking into when he went down to the factory on 105th that night, but he certainly wasn't dumb enough to go anywhere in a neighborhood like East Amber alone. Still, he couldn't risk anyone finding out about his secret dealings. He needed backup. Backup that wouldn't talk." I shrug. "If it were me, I'd bring the butler-bot."
I'm leaning on my cane with the elbow of my bad arm. It hurts, but it gives me the freedom to use my free hand, under my jacket, to slip the .44 from its holster and caress the trigger guard with my fingertip. Hennessy hasn't
