The Gray Man (51 page)
The older Frenchman barked, “I don’t need you fucking this up.”
“And I don’t need your advice. It’s my show.
I
call the time and location.”
I
call the time and location.”
“You are my property, monsieur. We have spent a lot of money on your recovery. You will do as you are told.”
Court wanted to protest, wanted to reach into the front seat and break the passenger’s neck, but he checked his urges. Kurt Riegel’s successor was a bigger asshole than Kurt Riegel, but he was also Gentry’s boss.
If only for the time being.
“Yes, sir,” said Court, though he wanted to say more. He turned his head back to the window, caught a final glimpse of the southern tip of the park, the lovers and the children and the families and the lives of others so incredibly different from his own.
The Peugeot turned left on Piccadilly, left the park behind, and melted into the heavy traffic of London’s morning commute.
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