“The Council would like to talk to you,” Marciano who was the de facto spokesperson for the male-only Council of Italians Living in Kenya, said as soon as he entered Aquila’s office.
As was his habit the latter man was dressed in black; he always prided himself as the harbinger for bad news. There were no initial greetings, no shaking of hands; just the order. If he was angry, his face did not show it. Come to think of it, Aquila had never, in his short stint with this man, seen him angry. He had always treated every situation with a calm coldness. His mien had never portrayed any outward outbursts of emotions.
“I hope everything is alright.”
“The Council members will tell you.”
Aquila knew that everything was not alright. He had betrayed the Council by not listening and obeying their
