The Country Omega (The Downing Cycle Book 1) by Penelope Peters

Author:Penelope Peters [Peters, Penelope]
Language: eng
Format: azw, epub, mobi
Published: 2016-01-26T05:00:00+00:00

Part Four: Antonio

The train to New Belford was moving much too slowly.

Or maybe it was that Antonio was much too anxious. His leg kept bouncing, up-and-down-and-up-and-down, without pause, and he tried to concentrate on the stack of work-related reading he’d brought along with him, but he could barely finish a sentence before glancing out the window, only to stare at the exact same scenery he’d been watching for the previous…

Antonio looked at his watch, and groaned.

Forty minutes. I’ve only been on this blasted train for forty minutes.

He glared at the trees that weren’t speeding along the side of the train half as quickly as he’d have liked, and turned back to the report he’d been trying to read.

Initial output from the Kohlrabi Fields is less than previously expected, but still substantial when compared to those of nearby fields. The cinnamon is of excellent quality, and output is expected to increase when additional trees have reached harvesting age at the end of the month.

Antonio nodded, as if he had any idea what any of that meant, and read the sentence again. And then a third time.

After the fifth try, he gave up and shoved the papers back in his bag, along with all the accompanying charts and graphs and photographs, and pulled the plain brown envelope out and stared at it. There wasn’t anything written on it – but Antonio knew exactly what was inside, because he’d watched the papers print out on Larissa’s private printer that morning, before she had slipped them inside the envelope and handed it to him.

“I deleted the file,” she’d said. “So don’t go losing it. I’m not going to write it up a second time.”

“Thank you.”

Larissa’s mouth had dropped open. “Did you just….”

“Yes. Shut up.”

“Because I’ve never heard you actually thank—”

“Can we not mention that again?” said Antonio shortly. “Because I might be sick on your shoes.”

“Fuck off,” said Larissa, and kicked him out of the office. At least she hadn’t been wearing the pointy-toed stilettos when she did it.

Antonio resisted the urge to pull the contract out of the envelope and reread it. Just to make sure it was the right one. And anyway, he knew it was. Had practically hung on Larissa’s shoulder while she typed it up, and hovered over the printer, checking every line of every page as the machine spit them out in succession.

The train gave a particularly jerky shake, and Antonio nearly dropped the envelope, before gripping it even tighter than before. He slid the envelope back in his bag, just in case.

And picked up the reports again. Sixth time the charm, maybe.

Initial output from the Kohlrabi Fields is less….

Robert Downing would sign the contract. He’d have to sign it. Ethan would surely be feeling the same things Antonio felt. The strange feeling of being untethered, lost, incomplete. The way nothing tasted right – well, wine, anyway. Did Ethan drink wine? Did Ethan drink at all? He hadn’t had anything at the disastrous first meeting, hadn’t even stayed long enough to eat.

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