CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
The hour was late, and Eric and Mr Jones sat side by side in a dimly lit room. The sparse furnishings were a mixture of modern and antique. They were seated facing a large, dark wood desk decorated with curious carvings on its panels. The chairs on which they sat had tall backs upholstered in thick, red velvet, and the ornately carved wood was gilded with gold leaf. The room itself was large but offered very little furnishings from what they could see, apart from the chair’s underneath them and the desk the mercenary rested his elbows on. The only light illuminating the room was emitted from the monitor screen on top of the desk.
‘So, gentlemen, what news?’ The voice from the monitor was soft, with gravel notes that suggested a forty-a-day habit, beneath which chimed a
