Zaharoff/Richter Mark V

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In the twilight just before sunrise, it was the most ordinary-looking building he had seen since the chicken farm of his youth. It stood in the middle of an empty field full of cricket weeds and cacti, mostly dust and some neglected footpaths in the half darkness.

Charlie Crowe left the Rolls-Royce engine run-fling at the curb behind him and babbled going along the shadowed path, leading the way for Rank Gibson, who glanced back at the gently purring car.

«Shouldn't you―»

«No, no,» Charlie Crowe cut in. «No one would steal a Rolls-Royce, now, would they? How far would they get, to the next corner? Before someone else stole it fromthem!Come along!»

«What's the hurry, we've got all morning!»

«That's what you think, chum. We've got―» Charlie Crowe eyed his watch. «Twenty minutes, maybe fifteen for the fast tour, the coming disaster, the revelations, the whole bit!»

«Don't talk so fast and slow down, you'll give me a heart attack.»

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