Just as he arrived at that conclusion, a light rapping on the door coincided with the fugue’s conclusion, and he called out for his guest to enter. He smiled when he saw who it was: the very person who was likeliest to improve his mood. Even after all that the man had suffered, and his long, doubtless painful, and continuing recovery, the impossible arrogance that shone through any other expression he wore hadn’t faded a bit. And yet, Draegan believed, surely he was entitled to it. He might never trust the fellow entirely, but the skill he brought to the table alone was enough to assure Draegan that he had the resources to complete his most critical operation. That, and, of course, the fact that he possessed the object second only to the box itself—which was, naturally, why Draegan had summoned him. When he was in a doubtful frame of mind, seeing it always reassured him.
“Good afternoon, Slade,” he said, switching off the phonograph and giving the thief his full attention. “You have it?”
“Of course,” said the thief, producing, out of thin air, the small, notched metal circle that formed the key to the Carmine box and placing it on the desk in front of Draegan. “Is that all, or did you need something else?”
“Just to tell you one additional thing,” said Draegan. “Tomorrow, we’ll be leaving for New York.”
Canon in Crimson (Symphony in Red Book 1) Page 30
