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When I came home earlier from playing Starcraft II with Kane, Py was leaning on the motel room door jamb, waiting.   A random guy in shirt and tie was sitting on the bed, as far away as possible from the Cat.   (Sensible dude.   The Cat was still fat and happy from its mouscapades nearly causing me to have kittens, and a happy Cat is a fearsome thing…)

“Hey, Py.”

Py inclined his head.   “This is – what’s your name again…?   Never mind.   Works for an airline.   Tell him what you know.”

I swear – the man actually had to clear his throat and straighten his tie before obliging.

“Er – right.   Right.   Um – a Mr. Brandon Rix left the country last week.   For Iceland.   One way.”

I think I blinked.

“Iceland?   You’re fucking kidding me.   Why the fuck to Iceland?”

Py shrugged.   “Stopover?   Got on another flight from there?   Likes volcanos?   What the hell do I care?   Point is – the Brix kid is gone.   Wanna go get him?”

“Why?   What the hell do you care?”

The eyebrow Py raised was ominous.   “I don’t.   But where the kid goes, Amelia will be.   And that?   That I’m interested in.”

 

I threw myself onto the sofa, my feet onto the coffee table and tucked my right hand under my left armpit.   “Fuck ’em both.   Bloody cowards.   Iceland can have them.   Sick of the pair of them.”

 

The man still sitting on the bed put up his own hand tentatively.   “Hey – um.   Sorry.   May I go?”

“No, no” – (Py can be so charming) –

“After all your help?   I really want to take you out to eat.   Please.   I insist.”

 

Know what?

The guy actually smiled.

 

NEXT ENTRY…

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