"Good day to you as well, sir," the younger man said with a nod that was as formal as his capelet. His dark eyes flicked to me, the sense of him shifting from stiff and grudging politeness to animosity as he did so. "I'm Sahm Aikman—HTI legal affairs department," he continued, eyes shifting back to Randon. "This is my colleague, Dr. Kurt DeMont—" he gestured, the muscles of his hand as taut as the rest of him—"who handles the various medical aspects of the Solitaire run."
DeMont's eyes came back to Randon from their uneasy study of me and he nodded his own greeting. "Mr. Kelsey-Ramos," he said gravely. His eyes shifted again to me, and I sensed a surge of boldness peek through, as if he were considering speaking to me directly. But caution and protocol prevailed, the boldness withered, and he remained silent.
All of which would have been abundant proof, if I'd needed any, that the message O'Rielly had sent here had included the fact that Randon might be bringing his father's Watcher along. But they weren't quite sure yet...
"Pleased to meet you," Randon said, nodding acknowledgment of the introductions. He, too, had picked up on their interest in me; equally clear was the fact that he intended to draw out their uncertainties as far as he could. "May I say, first of all, that I appreciate your getting all the accommodations trivia out of the way—it certainly made life easier for my aides." He waved vaguely in my direction; like magic, both sets of eyes shifted to me. The gesture shifted smoothly, Randon's hand ending up pointing at the computer sitting on the table. "You've brought me copies of your records?"
"Uh, yes, sir," Aikman said, shifting gears with visible effort, his attention lingering on me for a second after his eyes had gone back to Randon. Standard