They pulled up to the house and climbed out of the vehicle. Silent Annie led the way to the front door, which slid back into the wall before she reached it, letting out a burst of cool dry air in the process.

Cain followed her into the foyer, which was empty, and then into the large living room. There were a number of slightly shabby, very comfortable chairs and couches arranged in little groupings, and a heatless pseudofire roared in a brick fireplace. There was also a portable bar, a large holo screen, and a trio of elegantly framed mirrors—but it was the books that overwhelmed everything else in the room. They were everywhere—stacked neatly in floor-to-ceiling cases, piled on tables, casually tossed onto window seats, spread open over chair and sofa arms, even laid out on the hearth.

The only person in the room was a man dressed in a tan lounging suit. He sat on an easy chair, reading a leather-bound book and sipping an Alphard brandy.

He appeared to be in his late forties or early fifties. His hair was brown and thinning, and had started to turn gray at the sides. His eyes, too, were brown, and stared curiously at Cain from under long, thin eyebrows that sloped gently upward, giving him a perpetually questioning look. His nose had been broken at least once, possibly many times, and his teeth were so white and straight that Cain immediately decided they weren’t his own. There was an S-shaped scar on the back of his right hand.

He was a burly man who was starting to put weight on a once powerful figure, but when he stood up he did so with an athletic grace.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to meet you, Sebastian,” he said in a deep voice.

“Not as long as I’ve been waiting to meet you,” said Cain.

Santiago smiled. “And now that you’re here, which do you propose to do—talk or shoot?”

“We’ll talk first,” said Cain. He looked around the living room. “You’ve got quite a library. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many books in one place before.”

“I like the heft and feel of a book,” replied Santiago. “Computer libraries are filled with electronic impulses. Books are filled with words.” He patted his book fondly and tossed it onto his chair. “I’ve always preferred words.”

“You’ve also got a lot of mirrors,” noted Cain.

“I’m a vain man.”

“Tell whoever’s behind them not to get overeager. I could have taken them out the second I entered the room.”

Santiago laughed. “You heard him,” he said, turning to the mirrors. “Leave us alone.” He turned back to Silent Annie, who had been standing quietly behind Cain. “You can leave us, too. I’ll be quite safe.”

“You’re an optimist,” said Gain as Silent Annie left the room.