I look at the open back door and feel the irritation rise before the worry does.
Oliver isn't the type to vanish in the middle of a purchase. Least of all right after Rahul Sharma happens to walk into the same shop where we just closed a deal far too large to look innocent.
If he left, I understand why. Sharma is still a sore subject for him; the man hired assassins to kill him once. Oliver had the sense to pull his own face out of the window before Sharma started thinking of him as an unfinished problem and decided to collect on the investment. Fair enough.
But he should have answered when I called.
"Simon," I say, already moving toward the door, "did he go this way?"
The drowned glances at the gap, then at me, his face still too pale from Sharma. He probably thinks the disappearance is somehow the man's doing.
"He did. And before you ask, no, I didn't see who came in after him. I was a little busy trying not to breathe too loudly near that creature."
