What Kind of Flowers Go With Pentothal?
Arms crossed and pacing, Solo paused to frown down through the one-way glass of the medical theater. The figure on the table, swathed in linen and surrounded by masked medical staff, could have been anybody.
But Napoleon knew who it was. Dark stains on his coat to prove it, crimson on the cuffs a vivid reminder. He steeled his face and hid his worry.
A nurse removed the patient’s mask. Napoleon looked away. It was harder.
Doctor had told Solo to go home. Seven steps. Turn. Seven steps. There was nothing he could do—well, he could do that here.
