28: Piran
Piran
They were in a small meeting room. Piran sat across the circular table from the woman, a glass of water before each of them. His was already half-empty. The other four chairs around the table were unoccupied.
There were a couple of terminals on the walls, and a small drinks dispenser in the corner. The door was shut and probably locked. When Piran had entered the two guards had remained outside.
“Have to say I’m impressed,” the woman said.
She’d given her name as Casey Romberg, said she was the site’s tech consultant. She wore a loose-fitting suit rather than the more active wear of the guards, and her hair hung loose to her shoulders. If Piran had to guess, he’d say she was middle-aged—but he wouldn’t say that to her face. She’d be insulted if he guessed her age acc
