Whatever was going on? I placed my napkin beside my plate, rose, and followed Father out of the room. His spine was stiff and straight, and I worried my lower lip.
“What did you wish to say, Father?” I lingered in the doorway, uncertain how long this conversation would last.
“I have a favor to request of you.” He gestured toward the seat on the opposite side of his desk.
“Of course.” I entered and sat down.
He opened a box of cigars, selected one, and pushed the box toward me.
“No, thank you.” I’d never cared for the taste. Instead, I took a pack of Camels from a pocket and shook out a cigarette. “What can I do for you?” I lit the cigarette and brought it to my lips.
“This has to do with Knight, Inc.” He gave a deprecating chuckle. “I’m afraid it’s a bit cloak and dagger-ish.”
“I’m intrigued. What is it?”
“A Brazilian archaeologist has requested funding from the company.”