Page 113 of Black Reign

“Very expensive suit.”

“So is his,” Drew says. “Everybody’s fine.”

I step back.

My head is already working.

Credential transferred physically.

Authentication phrase correct.

No digital communication inside the perimeter.

Vesper planned the entire thing outside my network.

Drew snaps his fingers.

“Scotch.”

I stare at him.

“What?”

“You need Scotch.”

“I do not need Scotch.”

A waiter several yards away hesitates.

Drew points toward me.

“Look at his face.”

The waiter leaves quickly.

Vale laughs.

“You’re handling this surprisingly well.”

“I’ve seen Blackwell fix half our disasters,” Drew says. “Let me get him for once.”

I look at him.

Something unexpectedly sincere sits beneath the joke.

Then the waiter returns with a bottle, glasses, and ice.

Drew personally pours.

Badly.

Two fingers.

One cube.

He hands it to me.

“Drink.”