“Peaceful here, too, your highness. How’re Lucky and Kato?”
Tim snorted and shot a middle finger in the general direction of the van. Lucian’s driver, Masaru Koyzumi, a skilled martial artist, marksman, and quiet man whom Clark loved to tease, merely waved just beyond the half-risen steel panel between the fore and aft compartments. The touch of a button could slam it home and engage iron bar locking mechanisms that protected both driver and passengers.
“They send their regards,” Lucian answered, enjoying Clark’s adrenalin-fueled banter despite himself.
“Tweedle Dee and Dum are doing fine, but the British invader is getting restless.”