48
- 48 -
Machivelle dropped her head. Her shoulders rose and fell. The room was silent, anticipatory.
Then she straightened up. She exhaled and turned, her mouth a straight line, her eyes intense.
“I’m impressed,” she said. “I thought that last message you sent was too sentimental, but now I understand. It was a warning, wasn’t it?”
At least that confirmed one suspicion—she knew about the worm. And if she had the house under surveillance, she probably knew a great deal more.
Her eyes darted behind Rodin. “Deas, our guest refuses to answer my question. You recall the last time someone disrespected me?”
The blow came fast, across the back of Rodin’s head, the slap ringing in his ears.
He took a breath, calmed himself. He needed the adrenaline, but not yet. There was still more of
