Brooklyn Knight Read Online Free PDF Page B

that this is not the kind of situation in which I normally find myself.”
    “Yes—”
    “I, on my own … I did not know how to do such a thing, to … go about this… .”
    “Just tell them,” the voice came to the caller once more. Strong. Determined, its confidence working him subtly, becoming his own. Relaxing slightly, pulling a deep breath in through his nostrils, the caller said;
    “So … I decided to sleep on the problem.”
    “Ahhhh,” the electronic voice responded. “I believe I begin tosee. Now let us return to my original question. If you please, tell me, how did you get this number?”
    Tell them—
    “It came to me in a dream.”
    “Very well,” the distorted voice replied, seemingly mollified. “Now, tell me, what is it you need, when do you need it, and do you possibly believe you can afford our services?”

 

    CHAPTER THREE
     
    “This is just wonderful, Professor,” said Bridget, proclaiming her approval over not only the morsel she had just consumed but their entire meal as well.
    Of course, she definitely had good reason to do so, one that had little to do with their restaurant’s atmosphere or waitstaff.
    Not that they were not also things worthy of appreciation. The mood created by the soft music, muted lighting, and attentive personnel would be enough to attract and please many a New Yorker.
    But not Piers Knight.
    No, the professor only frequented one type of eatery—the kind known for good food.
    Decor, music, the clothes worn by the workers—even the prices—such things meant nothing to him.
    All that did matter to Knight, from the finest restaurant to the lowest hash house, was the quality of the meal he could expect to find behind its doors.
    “Glad you’re enjoying yourself.”
    Tucked away on 78th between Second and Third Avenues, Iron Sushi was one of those “unknown” spots—the kind Knight adored, one where the owners always managed to find a table for him somewhere no matter when he might arrive. That night, arriving at the height of the evening rush, he and his new assistant had, with great apology, been relegated to the back corner near the lavatory. Still, the restaurant’s single restroom was hidden behind a curtain and the excellence of their meal was more than compensatory.
    The pair had started with the standard vegetarian spring roll appetizer, remarkably light and crisp treats of which Knight had grown quite fond and which he now insisted on introducing to everyone he took to the establishment. Bridget’s use of mere soy sauce on hers caused the professor to frown, but her pure delight over the Rock Shrimp Tempura Bites, batter-fried baby shrimp served in a sweet orange sauce, sprinkled with but the merest dash of fiery pepper, more than made up for her culinary faux paus.
    “I have to admit,” the young woman continued, “we don’t have anything like this back in Wolfbend.”
    From there on, the young woman’s palate had been nothing but overwhelmed. She appreciated the miso soup, and the edamame, green pods one popped into their mouth, then dragged through their teeth to extract the beans within, delighted her to no end. She also bravely tried her first calamari, both the crisply fried rings as well as the Ika Maru Yaki, a broiled squid marinated to give it a particular smokey taste. The first she merely enjoyed; the second made her eyes roll in delight.
    Knight teased his new intern over the fact that she found his favorite Japanese restaurant to be better only than those that might be found in her hometown, but he knew the truth. He had watched her make her way through the near-overwhelming amount of variousdishes he had ordered, and had even allowed her stealing of the entire portion of snow crab salad, one of his personal favorites.
    But it was the arrival of a single plate containing but two lone morsels that truly overwhelmed her. These were called Plum Kisses, large delicately-prepared whole scallops, surrounded by rolls of grilled