Pindar : Pythian Odes Lyköan slipped out of the tuk-tuk, paid the driver, and ran for cover under the Ayutt Haya’s entrance awning. Once inside, he stopped to brush the rain from his jacket to little effect, then headed for the elevators, arriving at Whitehall’s door a minute before eleven. Thai punctuality. The door opened immediately. “Glad you could come by on such short notice,” Whitehall said, ushering him inside. Was it just paranoia or had he glanced nervously over Lyköan’s shoulder before closing the door? “Here, have a seat,” Whitehall offered, motioning towards an overstuffed chair. “Would you like something to drink? Water, soda, a pint of ale perhaps?” Lyköan shook his head, “No, thanks, I’m fine.” Whitehall was being even more accommodating than usual. Lyköan took the proffered chair as Whitehall sat in another. The relaxed smile returned to Whitehall’s face. “So what’s important enough to require a face-to-face?”
