“That is enough!” Kit Carson had the lungs to be heard when necessary.
Caddrick slammed the scotch glass down, knuckles white. “Don’t you dare use that tone with me—”
“Gentlemen!” Ronisha bellowed, towering over both of them. “Senator! You will remain civil or you will leave this meeting! Is that understood? Kit Carson has just risked his life, not to mention two weeks of unpaid time away from his business, looking for your little girl. In my book, you owe Mr. Carson a very serious apology! As well as whatever humble thanks you can muster up as a parent. You ought to be dancing for joy he’s discovered as much as he has, considering what he was up against, out there!”
Caddrick clearly didn’t intend to dance for anybody, much less for joy. He sat glaring at Ronisha for a long, dangerous instant, then glowered at Kit, obviously waiting for further explanations. Kit considered walking out, then considered unemployment and life as suffered up time. Speaking coldly, he said, “Suppose you tell me just what I was supposed to do, Senator? Spend the next five years combing the North American continent for Armstrong? When we had a positive lead on your daughter’s whereabouts? The Time Tours guides we left in Colorado are still searching for Armstrong and his hostages, will be for months to come, down the Wild West Gate. But this search and rescue mission was charged with finding your little girl. And that’s exactly what it’s going to do. Find your daughter. In London. Ronnie, what’s the news from Spaldergate House?”