Page 17 of Rowe

“This coffee already tastes like one.”

Kai glanced at Odette. She touched one finger to the counter, pointed it toward the stairs, and shook her head once. Sonny saw the orderly standing rigid beside his mop.

“Gentlemen,” Sonny said quietly, “I believe lunch has become administrative.” Patrick passed him the paper sack.

“Protect the doughnuts.”

“With my life.”

“Let’s not cheapen either one.” The five men crossed the lobby without hurry.

Patrick was broad enough to turn an ordinary T-shirt into protective equipment. Christopher stood half an inch taller, leaner but no less solid, with the balanced posture of a man who expected the ground to move and had long ago learned how not to.

Jethro carried most of his size through the chest and shoulders. His beard and scarred hands made him look older than he was and less patient than he felt. Kai moved softly, a compact wall of muscle whose stillness demanded more attention than motion would have. Sonny was the narrowest of the five, though narrow was relative; he had the long reach of a dock crane and a face that seemed built for disappointing bad news.

They stopped shoulder to shoulder between the strangers and the hall leading deeper into the hospital. The lobby changed shape around them. Patrick opened the first sack and looked inside.

“We have glazed, powdered, and one object the bakery insists is an apple fritter.” Jethro peered over his shoulder.

“That’s not an apple fritter. That’s roof insulation.”

“It has raisins.”

“Roof insulation can have raisins if the roof is old enough.” The tall stranger watched them.

“We’re handling private business.” Patrick selected a glazed doughnut.

“In a public lobby?”

“It doesn’t concern you.” Christopher looked past him to Odette.

“Does it concern Miss Landry?” Odette lifted one eyebrow.

“They want confidential patient information, and they have confused poor tailoring with legal authority.” Sonny studied the strangers’ matching black boots.

“Easy mistake. Those buttons look official from here.” The thick man squared his shoulders.

“Move.” No one moved.

The five men did not crowd him. They did not touch him or raise their voices. They simply remained where they were, an unbroken line of shoulders, forearms, old scars, and calm attention. Behind them lay the corridor. Beyond the corridor lay the elevators. The strangers might have passed one man. They might have forced two aside. Five required a kind of faith none of them possessed.

Kai tilted his head.

“You asking us to move, or reporting that you’re about to?”

The thick man took one step forward. Jethro took half a step to meet him. It was a small adjustment, but the thick man stopped. Jethro’s coffee remained steady in his hand.

“Careful,” Jethro said. “Floor’s wet.”

The orderly looked down at the dry tile, understood his role, and pushed the mop between them.

“Liability,” he said. Sonny nodded gravely.

“Kills more men than pride.” Christopher looked at him.

“Is that true?”

“Not today.”