“If I knew my chauffeur’s etiquette, it meant he was driving blue today instead of the gray Cadillac. When I entered the waiting room he rose lazily from the upholstered bench, grinning in his beard. “You’re more important than I had figured,” he said. “The old man almost never works this time of day.” He handed me a gray cardboard folder sealed with shiny black tape. “Do I tip you or what?” “You could if you want your arm broken. I left all that when I went to work for the Commodore. You get an...y sleep? You look awful.” “It’s my love life.” “Man, I hope she’s worth it.” He pulled the cap forward. “Anything back?” “Tell him thanks and I’ll be in touch.” When he’d gone I picked up my mail, unlocked the inner office, and put the mail on the desk without looking at it. I slit the tape with a letter opener I never used and spread out the folder’s contents. Personnel at Wayne State and the University of Michigan had worked fast to get student transcripts printed out and hand-delivered to the mansion in Crosse Pointe, and Cambridge had worked just as fast to cable information across the Atlantic to a terminal at Stutch Petrochemicals.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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