“Me, sir? No.”
“Good. “
CHAPTER TWELVE
Journal #121
In reviewing my entries thus far, I notice they give the impression that my employer was always on top of things and anticipated every contingency. Such was not the case. He was certainly exceptional when it came to adapting quickly to situations or covering when surprised, but surprised he was … more often than he would ever care to admit.
I can state this unequivocally, as it was my privilege to be present on more than one occasion when he was clearly (to my eye) caught flat-footed.
The company’s new facility, or The Club, as the Legionnaires took to calling it, was certainly no comedown from the comfort they had enjoyed during their stay at the Plaza. In addition to the already referenced confidence course and firing range, it had its own swimming pool and sauna, a moderate-sized gymnasium, and enough rooms to accommodate a small convention. As it evolved, however, the main gathering point for the Legionnaires was the combination dining hall, meeting room, and cocktail lounge. With its comfortable sofas and fireplaces amid the widely scattered tables, it proved to be ideal for socializing during off-duty hours, which in turn made it the pivotal point for dispensing or collecting information or gossip that wasn’t available through normal channels.
Phule paused for a moment before seating himself for breakfast, surveying again the bustle of activity in the dining hall. To his eye, it was apparent that there was something afoot this morning. The Legionnaires were huddled together in groups at various tables around the room, their heads close together as they murmured back and forth while poring over something. Occasional snickers erupted, and more than a few speculative glances were directed his way … and there was obvious nudging with elbows as his presence was noted.