Ian and Robin uttered a sigh of frustration.
“Have no fear, Major Thappa,” Rolf said. “We shall have them ready for the next white slave auction in Tangiers in no time.”
In response, the Fletcher brothers winced and sunk back into their chairs.
“Never mind the Legionnaire’s churlish attempt at sardonic humour. Theirs is the poetry of killers with nothing to lose but their self-respect.”
“Oh yeah,” Fritz replied, “and how many shall perish as a result of your good deeds, oh noble one.”
“All shall perish in time, whether by their own or someone else’s devices Legionnaire. It is the human nature, as you know.”
“Amen, and please pass me a bottle of German lager, Master Ian.”
Surya glared at him for a moment and then turned his attention to the Fletcher twins.
“Dinner will be served at
