"Sir?" Assistant Paul froze for a moment, then asked in astonishment, "How could you... how could you think that? Have I done something poorly lately that gave you the wrong impression?"
His reaction was so natural that even Chris's expression wavered. He felt that his suspicious, heartless grandfather had begun to doubt even his most trusted confidant.
But William merely watched Paul in silence, his gray-blue eyes sunken in shadow and cold beyond measure.
"If it had been any other day—"
William said expressionlessly, "Even without my explicit instructions, you should have known that on a day this important, Brolin must never be allowed to see Ilari."
Paul's eyelashes trembled almost imperceptibly, and his gaze drifted unconsciously to the side.
"Their rooms are at the very end of the third floor of the east wing and on the second basement level of the west wing."
William spoke slowly. "Without someone to guide him, even if Brolin turned into a bat and blundered around blindly, he wouldn't find Ilari's laboratory by tomorrow morning."
He pressed a hand against the armrest and leaned slightly forward. The firelight not yet fully extinguished in the room illuminated every harsh wrinkle on his face.
"Yet he not only 'happened' to find it, he also 'happened' to witness the crucial moment when Ilari extracted the memories. Are the Alchemists we hired really so foolish that they don't understand something as simple as 'close the door when doing something wrong'?"
Chris was suddenly startled. Only then did he realize where the problem lay.
William continued, "That scene was enough to make Brolin realize what we were doing, and enough to enrage a madman who already felt betrayed."
Paul opened his mouth as if to explain, but William gave him no chance.
"And those Alchemical Bombs."
The old