“Mr Pardalia will see them alone,” the lioness says loftily. “Guards will wait here.” “Are you sure?” asks one that smells like an Eastern brown snake and I mark his scent. She flashes him a look that could peel paint and the guard shuts his trap. The three of us follow her into Lyle’s office. There’s fancy red carpet and the air-con is set super low, which I appreciate, but I also know it’s a known technique to help keep the more violent beasts calm.
