The car moved along the broad streets of Capital City, with neon lights on both sides.
The atmosphere inside was somber.
Owen Moreland's phone suddenly vibrated, and after a while, he took the Bluetooth headset from the storage compartment and put it in his ear.
Whatever was said on the other end, Owen responded in a steady voice, "I'm a bit tied up, just accompany William Morgan. Before the dinner ends, briefly bring up the project collaboration with William's people, there's no need to press too hard..."
No sooner had he hung up than another call came in.
He took four or five work calls in a row before his phone finally quieted down.
Amelia Clarke sat quietly in the copilot seat, and before long, the White Range Rover pulled into the South Hill Villa at number 8.
The moon hung high in the sky.
The night air carried a hint of heat, and the crisp, pleasant chirping of insects rose and fell in the lawn.
