He was ready, sitting patiently on his mattress with his back against the wall. The door creaked open, and the two now-familiar goons stepped in. One—the driver—stayed by the door. The other had a full carrier bag in his hand. “Your food,” the man with the bag announced—then he stopped in his tracks. His eyes, wide with alarm, scoured the large, empty space. “Where’s your friend?” Berry sounded surprised. “Friend?” The goon was quickly losing it. The bag just tumbled out of his hand and he reached for his gun. “Your friend. The other writer.” Berry looked around the room with mock bewilderment. It was, in fact, empty. Apart from Berry and the two goons, there was no one else in the room. “I don’t know,” Berry said in a surprised, concerned tone. “He’s not with you?”
