“It’s me—who else?” replied the muffled voice of Rutger. “Do you really have to keep the door closed? My poor knuckles are getting bruised from knocking every time.”

Yeah, right, Sato thought. You’ve got enough cushion on those hands to protect you from a sledgehammer. “Hold on.”

Sato quickly gathered his latest notes and reports and filed them away in his desk drawers. Though he’d acted the part of a trusting friend to Rutger for weeks, he still had his doubts about the short, fat man. Anyone can be a spy.

He stood up and walked over to the wooden door, slightly warped from a small leak that had crept through the tons of solid rock above them. He unlocked the door and yanked it open, jerking it harder than necessary.

Sato looked forward with a glazed expression, then left and right, as if searching for someone. Finally, he slowly lowered his gaze until he met Rutger’s eyes. “Oh, it’s you. Down there.”

“Very funny, very funny.” Rutger’s short, round body barely fit in the hallway. He took in a deep breath, inflating himself even larger than he’d been a second earlier. “At least it was funny the first hundred times. Come on. Our next visitor has arrived.”

Grumbling inside—no, screaming inside—Sato stepped into the hall, turned and closed the door, and then locked it. Without a word to Rutger, he walked toward the welcoming room at a brisk pace, knowing the poor little man could never keep up on his tiny legs.

When Rutger yelled, “Wait up!” from behind, the briefest hint of a smile flashed across Sato’s face before he swiped it away with his trademark scowl.

~

“Ah, Master Sato!” George said, his usual jovial self, when Sato entered the room. Even though it was August, large flames licked and spit at the air inside the stone fireplace, warming the room to an uncomfortable level. A couple of nice leather couches hugged the walls; an armchair was set at the perfect angle for someone to sit by the fire and read a book. But at the moment, the only other two people in the room were standing next to the small window that overlooked the canyon river far below.

George stood to the right of the window, dressed in his Tuesday Suit, which only varied from his Monday Suit in that it was a very dark blue instead of a very dark black. One of his hands was outstretched toward Sato, the other toward the stranger standing to the left of the window. “Sato, I would like you to meet a very dear friend of mine, Quinton Hallenhaffer.”