He covered this attitude with a hearty, down-to-earth,
back slapping manner that fooled no one but himself.
Bambridge joined him in the alcove, holding his coffee cup out
ahead of him like an offering. "Damn good coffee, Henry.
Must have made it yourself."
At fifty-five, Henry Bambridge figured he'd seen it all and
most of the fight had gone out of him. Physically, he was the
opposite of Tarbuck, slight in build and not quite five ten but
looked shorter. His features were finely drawn, almost feminine
in contrast to the dark, craggy, nearly simian countenance of Tarbuck.
"Let's get down to it." Henry Tarbuck radiated impatience as visible
as the steam rising from newly deposited excrement on a frosty day.
For a time, the men went over the schedule of events slated for the hearing.
"Everything seems to be in order," Jonathan suggested.
"Right, it's a go. I want to tell you, Jonathan, you've done
a damn fine job so far." Henry gestured expansively. "By advising
Diana Trenchant to attend her termination hearing without an attorney,
you saved us all a great deal of trouble."
The ombudsman acknowledged the compliment with a nod.
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