Messrick had firmly indicated what would happen to any servant who eavesdropped tonight. A pity, really, as it meant he would have to serve himself. ... Blackjack was an imposing figure of a man, tall for a Japanese. In his black clothing, broken only by a white shirt and red poet's tie, the renegade doctor seemed funereal in mood. His piercing brown eyes stared out from a face with an obvious scar running crosswise across it; the skin on one side of the scar was noticeably darker than the. The last he had heard, she’d divorced her husband. He really had no idea where she was. In the end, he did reluctantly give me the number of her ex. Talking to her former husband was difficult to say the least, the divorce had not been amicable. After explaining the phone call to him, he backed off a little and gave me a few leads to follow in Houston. He told me he didn’t want to ever see her again, but he still didn’t want to see he hurt. I seemed to be running in to dead ends trying to. More

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