Vapour was not good at explaining things. By the time we were standing in front of the gate I had approximately thirty percent of the information a person would want before committing to a job.
I had decided that was enough.
The gate was big and black and said oldmoney without using words. Vapour pressed his communication watch and it opened without a sound, the kind of smooth that required significant maintenance.
The mansion beyond it was enormous. Old building, dull colours, the kind of architecture that had stopped trying to impress people a hundred years ago because it no longer needed to.
Expensive vehicles parked in the drive like the apocalypse had been something that happened to other people, which for this family it probably had been.
But what struck me first wasn't the building or the cars. It was the trees.
They were everywhere. Deliberate. Old and thick and planted close enough that even in the open areas of the property the shade never fully broke.
