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"He's a genius," Baldwin said quietly. "He doesn't often see clients. Your case interested him. I must say it was unique in my experience."
He tapped on the door. "Mr. Wiedermann." Opening it a crack, he peered inside. "Mr. Xris here--by appointment."
"In!" came an irritable-sounding voice.
Baldwin opened the door wider, permitted Xris to enter. Giving the cyborg a reassuring smile, the young man asked if he could bring coffee, tea. Bourbon. Xris shook his head.
"Good luck, sir. Have a seat. Say your name a couple of times, just to remind him you're here."
Baldwin left, shutting the door behind him.
Xris looked at Mr. Wiedermann, the younger.
A thin man with a pale face and a shock of uncombed sandy blond hair sat behind what might have been a desk. It was completely covered over, hidden by various assorted objects, some of which had apparently been elbowed out by others and were now lying on the floor.
Mr. Wiedermann not acknowledging his presence, Xris glanced around the room. It had no windows, was lit by a single lamp on the desk, and by the lambent light shining from twenty separate computer screens that formed a semicircle behind the man's chair. The rest of the room was in shadow.
Wiedermann sat with his chin in his hands--his hands bent so that the chin rested on the backs, not the palms-perusing a document of some sort, studying it with rapt, single-minded intensity
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