The woman did not care. Her eyes were scanning the terrace.She spotted a glimpse of dark grey cloth, moved a little out onto the terrace, and then she...found what she was looking for. The woman, who had bumped into her, was standing right at the railing, which consisted of slightly tinged glass in order not to spoil the magnificent overview over New York, the capital of the universe. She was talking to some guy, tall, designer stubble and muscular. The type who drives muscle cars and thinks he. The Servant began his task.“Leave them on the tray I know someone on craigslist who’ll buy them. You’ll be off to the post office with the old jiffy bags again.”For a second Milton’s loyally sombre demeanour seemed to waver, offering a glimmer of a puzzled reaction shot, but he quickly knuckled down and cleaned the Captive to Madame’s satisfaction.“Milton, go and wait outside the door. We are at the beginning of the end.”The Servant nodded and ascended the stairs, crunching the door shut behind. More

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