Tuesday began with rain.Not dramatic rain. The low persistent grey of a morning that had decided not to commit, the kind that made the paddocks look older and the jungle on the island's edge look purposeful. Clide drove in with the wipers on their slowest setting. The rattle behind the rear seat did what it always did. His mind was already on the Voss meeting.He had forty minutes before it. He used them at his desk going through the behavioral section of the proposal, looking for every place she would find fault. He found four problems. He suspected she had found more.