West remained aloof. He glanced around the room but no flicker of surprise showed on his face. Did he know what had happened here? Cuso, listening to his lieutenant, glanced once at the craggy man, a look that was pure suspicious hatred. If it had been possible, Cuso would have had West skinned alive then and there.
Too much was at stake for that. A flayed man could not reveal his secrets. He could only die.
Cuso left off kicking his lieutenant and trying to listen to him at the same time. He turned to West.
"It seems that your people have—departed," he said.
"At least, they do not seem to be here," the craggy man answered. Again his voice had the deep boom of a bell in it.
"That is interesting," Cuso said.
"I find it so," West answered.
"How was it done?"
West spread his hands in a gesture that said something, or nothing. "Perhaps it would be best to ask them."
"You know." The words were a statement, not a question.