“My apologies, Ambassador,” said Morgan as he climbed out of the trike. “I hope the delay hasn't inconvenienced you.”
“Not at all; my time is my own. You've eaten, I hope?”
“Yes – when they cancelled my Rome connexion, at least they gave me an excellent lunch.”
“Probably better than you'd get at the Hotel Yakkagala. I've arranged a room for the night – it's only a kilometre from here. I'm afraid we'll have to postpone our discussion until breakfast.”
Morgan looked disappointed, but gave a shrug of acquiescence.
“Well, I've plenty of work to keep me busy. I assume that the hotel has full executive facilities – or at least a standard terminal.”
Rajasinghe laughed. «I wouldn't guarantee anything much more sophisticated than a telephone. But I have a better suggestion. In just over half-an-hour, I'm taking some friends to the Rock. There's a son-et-lumiиre performance that I strongly recommend, and you're very welcome to join us.»
He could tell that Morgan was hesitating, as he tried to think of a polite excuse.
“That's very kind of you, but I really must contact my office…” “You can use my console. I can promise you – you'll find the show fascinating, and it only lasts an hour. Oh, I'd forgotten – you don't want anyone to know you're here. Well, I'll introduce you as Doctor Smith from the University of Tasmania. I'm sure my friends won't recognise you.”
Rajasinghe had no intention of offending his visitor, but there was no mistaking Morgan's brief flash of irritation. The ex-diplomat's instincts automatically came into play; he filed the reaction for future reference.