the left wall. He walked back to the center, passed a glass to each of the Englishmen, went back around the desk, and sat down.
"Cheers, then, guys," he offered. They returned the gesture. "Well," he began, "it's good to see you two again. Trip okay? How'd you make it up so soon—rent a jet?" He opened his cigar box as he spoke and pushed it across the desk toward them. "Smoke?"
"Yes, good trip. Thanks, Felix," Hunt replied. "Avis." He inclined his head toward the window behind Borlan, which presented a panoramic view of pine-covered hills tumbling down to the distant Columbia. "Some scenery."
"Like it?"
"Makes Berkshire look a bit like Siberia."
Borlan looked at Gray. "How are you keeping, Rob?"
The corners of Gray's mouth twitched downwards. "Gutrot."
"Party last night at some bird's," Hunt explained. "Too little blood in his alcohol stream."
"Good time, huh?" Borlan grinned. "Take Francis along?"
"You've got to be joking!"
"Jollificating with the peasantry?" Gray mimicked in the impeccable tone of the English aristocracy. "Good God! Whatever next!"
They laughed. Hunt settled himself more comfortably amid a haze of blue smoke. "How about yourself, Felix?" he asked. "Life still being kind to you?"
Borlan spread his arms wide. "Life's great."
"Angie still as beautiful as the last time I saw her? Kids okay?"
"They're all fine. Tommy's at college now—majoring in physics and astronautical engineering. Johnny goes hiking most weekends with his club, and Susie's added a pair of gerbils and a bear cub to the family zoo."
"So you're still as happy as ever. The responsibilities of power aren't wearing you down yet."
Borlan shrugged