Tulip Hotel, "Tigris" Box.
After the heavy walnut door closed, the room fell into a brief silence.
The candle flames flickered on the silver candelabra, casting shadows on the faces gathered around the table.
The pan-fried cod on the table had gone cold, the truffle sauce had solidified into oily specks, and the meticulously carved vegetable decorations had lost their sheen.
It seemed more like offerings for a failed ritual at this moment.
Robbin stood at the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to the room.
He was holding a glass of freshly poured whiskey, with ice cubes clinking softly inside.
Outside, the garden lights outlined the silhouettes of palm trees, further away, the lights of the Green Zone formed a hazy band in the night sky.
He saw Song Heping's Toyota Land Cruiser drive out from the side door of the hotel, turn, and disappear down the driveway.
Gone.
Just gone like that.
"FUCK!"
Blake broke the silence first.
