He always did. As he often said, he was a scientist. An expert. He didn't take unnecessary chances. Eve waited as long as she could, pacing in the hallway, wringing her hands and fiddling with the key she'd used to lock Lucien in that room. Who was she kidding? He did take chances, she knew that too well. He took dangerous risks on every job; he took chances every day of his life! And she'd allowed him to force her out of that room, as surely as if he'd picked her up and carried her! A voice, Lucien's and yet not Lucien's drifted to her through the closed door. "That's it," she said, taking the key and inserting it into the lock. "I'm not going to stand here and... and do nothing!" She threw open the door to find Lucien sitting in a wide, padded chair that had been placed in the middle of the room. His head rotated slowly as she entered the room. He smiled at her. That was not Lucien's smile. "Well, hello," he said, his deep voice colored by a Georgia accent. Lucien's own voice was usually more clipped, more precise and with a hint of New York, where he'd been born.
