“By the time Mikal left the Commissioner’s office, the sun was already beginning to lower in a sky so blue, it seemed painted. Hot, dry winds blew in from the desert, rustling the palm trees, but as he stepped into the heat, he pulled the collar of his long woolen overcoat up, and the brim of his hat down. It was a reflexive set of movements; he didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing him here but he was anxious to get away. As he raced across the courtyard, his soft, cat-like footsteps echoed quietly across the ochre-colored tiles, marble and flagstones, glowing warmly in the setting sun. In the center of the courtyard, a fountain pattered an obbligato.

He was thankful the Korova clicked into life with its usual silent efficiency. Slamming the door behind him, he slipped the car...

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