Killer Plants Of Binaark

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In a white-painted room two hundred feet below the Tower of London, three men looked at a piece of wire.

The piece of wire was about three feet long. It was curved into an S and lay on a scarred wooden table. The three men looking at it were an odd trio.

The man who seemed to be in charge looked like a cross between a gnome and the mad scientist in a cheap horror movie. He limped, his skull was bare except for a few wiry tufts of white hair, his unnaturally long arms ended in blotched and gnarled hands, and his filthy laboratory smock didn't conceal his humpback. The eyes peering out at the world through thick-lensed glasses seemed to miss very little.

The second man was elderly, gray-haired, flawlessly dressed, and held himself as straight as a soldier. He had a look of gentle melancholy on his long face, and his wide gray eyes hinted they'd looked on more secrets than most men.

The third man sat on a rickety wooden chair turned back to front, which creaked under his weight. He was dark almost to the point of being swarthy, with thick black hair and bushy black eyebrows which met over a large nose which had been broken more than once. He wore an expensively tailored suit, but something about him would have made armor and a broadsword more appropriate. He was over six feet tall but so solidly built that he looked shorter, and there was enormous power in him. Now it was controlled and leashed, but it was always ready to be released at the command of the brain behind his two large, deceptively sleepy eyes.

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