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Sun Tzu, The Art of War
"Shit!" said Xris loudly and with feeling.
The response came over clearly on Harry's cel'link. Harry looked at Jamil, who shook his head. It was not exactly the response likely to come from the chief executive of an outer space floating platform corporation. Harry looked askance at the Olicien receptionist, afraid she, too, had heard the expletive.
But the receptionist had begun talking to Harry and Jamil the moment they entered the door and hadn't paused, except to draw breath. She continued to talk now, and probably hadn't heard, though she was starting to slow down and was obviously getting a bit too interested in Harry's conversation. Jamil distracted her, asked a question about Raoul that got her started again. Harry moved closer to the door, tried to see out to the tarmac.
"This is weird, Xris," Harry said in a low voice, under cover of Jamil's conversation. "We've waited for Raoul as long as we can."
"Did you try his cornre?"
"No response. What's really strange, he was supposed to meet one of their people for breakfast at the hotel. He never showed."
"Something's gone wrong."
Harry glanced at his watch. 0918.
"The question is, boss, do we go ahead?"
"We've gone too far to quit now. Proceed as planned. I'll try to raise Raoul. Out."
Harry stared a moment at the link, then replaced it in his briefcase, snapped the case shut
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