The great Gathering Hall was quieter than the halls outside. It seemed to tame the Agent’s fury as he stood before a long, empty discussion table. The high walls of dark walnut displayed a company of colorful flags, each representing the nations of the ruling World Alliance. Rifadoft smiled tensely, his silver tooth gleaming.
“I thought I might find you in here.”
A figure seated at the far end of the table shifted.
“It is a quiet place to come and think.”
Rifadoft moved toward the slender man. In his own native language, he quipped.
“Don’t tell me the pressure is finally getting to you.”
The gentleman at the table glared hard at Rifadoft. He seemed to regain a most powerful composure, and he answered him in sharp English.
“No! And don’t you forget where we are, Agent!”
Rifadoft scowled and answered with as much esteem as he could bear.
“Yes, sir, Mr. President.”
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