Krugger walked toward the library. At the entrance, the attendants glanced at him and immediately looked away; none of them liked this burly old soldier who spoke so bluntly—and so casually—about their esteemed director.
He stepped up to one of the men and asked, "Do you know where my grandson is?"
The man looked displeased, clearly wanting to ignore him, but after seeing Krugger's expression he swallowed the curse forming on his tongue and pointed toward a side door."He's in there, writing something. He only comes out to eat… or to use the bathroom. He even startled the director a bit."
Krugger's expression turned complicated. Francisco was pushing himself too hard—far too hard.
He walked to the indicated room and quietly opened the door. Inside, he found Francisco asleep at his desk, slumped over piles of documents. Even his body had started rebelling against the boy's relentless self-imposed workload.
