“Oh?”
“You didn’t tell me she was no longer a client.”
“You should have known without being told.” Smith was silent for a few seconds. “Is she going to try making trouble?”
“No.”
“What did she want?”
Connor leaned back in his chair and gazed out through the window, toward the Atlantic. “Who knows? I didn’t stay long enough to find out.”
“Very wise,” Smith said complacently.
When the call had ended, Connor brewed some P-brand coffee, using the supply he kept locked in the drinks cabinet. The Perfection of it soothed from his mind the last lingering traces of remorse.
How on Earth, he wondered idly, do they manage to make it taste exactly the way it smells?