Hurricane Watch

Начало книги

THE OFFICE WAS mostly silent, save the faint scratching of a pen on paper and the soft, distinctive hum of the computer on the desk. It was a room filled with warm mahogany wood. On one side there was a small conference table surrounded by chairs, and a discreet credenza where a pitcher of water and a set of glasses rested on trays. In the rear center, there was a desk, its back facing a large, floor to ceiling window which afforded a horizon view of a choppy, greenish blue Atlantic Ocean.

Seated at the desk was a tall, dark haired woman, dressed in a conservative gray skirt and white silk shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up past her elbows, exposing tanned, muscular forearms. Draped over the back of the chair was a gray blazer, and the dark head was propped up on one fist, while the other hand curled about a busily moving pen. One paper was completed, and then turned over coming to rest next to a small aquarium where two suspicious Siamese fighting fish swam languidly, sparing occasional fishy eyes for the desk’s tenant.

Читать дальше →