41. MARTIGAN
Bergeron’s guard opened the door wide so Martigan could step inside. Martigan glanced around the opulent office. Bergeron himself was sitting at his desk, a collar around his neck, lost in dreams. Martigan tapped his hand against his thigh. Was he supposed to interrupt or wait? This whole business with the collars creeped him out, to be frank.
The pretty girl he had noticed during his first meeting with the triumvirate was in the office as well, sitting in the same chair she had been sitting in then. She was wearing a turtleneck again. Bit hot for that. Martigan tried to think back. As far as he could recall, she had been wearing a green turtleneck that day, and today she was wearing violet. So she had not been sitting there unmoved, as her vacant expression sugge
