His only recompense was the fact that besides having Axelrod at his side, he was also being joined by that desk jockey Major Franks. Looking back, he saw the pathetic worm of a man with terror in his eyes as he clung to the reins of his pony. If anything, Quine hoped Rickenbacker or the Gleaves had the power to rid the world of Franks before they killed the professor and took back the Gargoyle Key.
“Perhaps you would like a drink,” Beasley suggested, lining up three glasses, “The Brandy I can recommend with extreme sincerity.”
“Thank you,” said Elena, her eyes on the back of Hilt’s chair.
“Take a seat,” Beasley suggested, indicating two large sofas by the panoramic window.
“Will you be joining us, Mr Hilt?” Elena called to the back of the chair.
“No.”
“He’s even grumpier in the morni
