Twenty-EightJohn lifted his head from the dining-room table and rattled his empty coffee cup irritably in the saucer. Mrs Snively appeared as if guided by sixth sense and poured him and Sebastian refills. Spread at his elbow was an array of the week’s papers, some open, some creased and discarded in untidy stacks beside them. The brothers were sharing an afternoon break while catching up on the week’s news.
“Seb, what on earth am I going to do?” John ran his fingers through his hair and massaged his temples. “I’ve got to find Lily — I’ve just got to — and I don’t have the faintest clue where to start.” He shot Seb a look of desperate appeal, as if willing him to produce something from a hat. “Zeng’s deadline is Friday. If I don’t produce the Dragon Seal, goodness only knows what he’s capa
