Heathens
The room felt like death, so all the cover ups didn’t do much.
The room didn’t have any windows, which didn’t surprise me. The door had four locks on it, I spotted the hidden gun under the desk, the knife taped behind a statue, and the trap door in the corner. The wood didn’t lay right, and I would have bet my life that he had an escape set up just in case. Finally, I saw three corgis laying in a pile together near Locke’s feet.
“Mordechai Clare,” his guard said, handing Simon Locke a file on me. The man took it, then shook my hand and told me to have a seat.
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