Chapter 128

• “Over there,” I told him, gesturing to a small, uncomfortable Bauhaus chair by the big window. The chair was bent plywood – it was light. If things didn’t go well, I could pick it up, with Caleb still on it, and hurl them both through the window.
• Well, okay, not quite. Obviously, I would never go that far. Those windows were historical artifacts and excellent examples of turn of the century art deco design, after all.
• But I’d had enough. And Caleb knew it. He perched on the edge of the Bauhaus chair looking – frankly – terrified.