Flint groaned. The mountain presented security problems that he suspected would give him fits.Inside the security room, he turned off the alarm and st...died the monitor tied to the camera feeds directed at mountain. Nothing. A mouse click switched the monitor to a different camera, and Flint spotted the interloper. He dialed the camera for a close-up.Middle-aged, non-descript, certainly not an assassin — maybe, Flint thought. Why is he crouching? Fuck, he's studying the compound. He might not be. My uncle, who had "taken care of me" since my mother's death the way a slaver "takes care" of his stock, certainly didn't give a damn about my feelings. I'll never know why, but I can see looking back on those days that he resented me in a way that went beyond simple callousness. Perhaps things were bad between him and my mother, and having me around was a constant reminder. It hardly matters now anyway.Business in The Salty Toad - that was the name of uncle's tavern, a name which matched his. More

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