Of it following.
6:30P.M.
THE GRANDFATHER CLOCK CHIMED ONCE FOR THE HALF HOUR WHENChris opened the front door and entered his house inside Hickory Row. He declined dinner and marched straight upstairs. A hot shower relaxed him. With pajamas and robe on he settled into an upholstered French chaise that angled from one corner of the bedroom.
Once he was gone, little doubt remained that Lee and Hughes would drastically escalate the Priority program. Proof of that had been building for some time. Three months back Lee had attempted to use the program to narrow the company’s competition on a government bid submission. But he’d blocked that effort thanks to a nervous Larry Hughes who got cold feet and, for once, sided with him. There’d been repeated talk about eliminating some of the more aggressive and successful salesmen at their competitors. And there was the totally unauthorized use last summer when, to close a deal, Hughes had ordered De Florio to blackmail a grocery store chain’s purchasing agent with the misfortune of having not one, but two, girlfriends and a wife. None of that had been contemplated when the program began. Which was one reason why he’d done what he had. The other, perhaps the more important reason, was his hatred for the two men who’d soon inherit total control of what he’d built.
Yet he wasn’t naïve.
Lee and Hughes would stop at nothing to plug the gushing leak he’d left behind. He’d been followed from Concord, so they probably already knew of his visit to the Walker home. He’d also openly carried the brown envelope inside, then left without it. Lee earlier made a point of mentioning Brent’s mother. Was it right to involvethe younger lawyer? To put him, and his family, in obvious danger? And what about Hank Reed’s daughter and granddaughter? They were now in the crosshairs too. No doubt existed that De Florio would be dispatched, following his files, instructing his associates on precisely what to do. He’d be efficient and merciless.Purely business.As he himself had voiced on more than one occasion. Maybe what he’d prepared would provide Reed and Walker with at least a chance at success.
That was the hope.
One thing was certain, though.
Brent Walker and Hank Reed would have more of a tactical advantage than any previous Priority—excluding, of course, himself.
11:59P.M.
JON TURNED THE BRASS HANDLE TO THE PATIO DOOR.
Unlocked.
He smiled.
Then pushed the door inward, stepping inside without a sound.
The foyer clock chimed loud for midnight. He slowly climbed the stairs, one at a time, a carpet runner cushioning his feet, the upstairs hall likewise carpeted, masking all sound.
At the bedroom, he swung the door inward.
“GOOD EVENING,”CHRIS SAID THROUGH THE DARK.
He was still reclined in the chaise, drifting in and out of a light sleep over the past few hours, patiently waiting.
De Florio closed the door. “Good evening, Mr. Bozin. Mr. Lee said you’d most likely be expecting me.”
“I assume I’ve been Prioritized?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Ironic, isn’t it? A program I conceived now being used to eliminate its creator.”
De Florio said nothing.
“Is this how’s it’s done?” he asked. “You just appear?”
“Surprise is an element we use to our advantage. Of course, here, there was no surprise.”
“How many have there been, Jon? How many visits in the night?”
“I don’t keep a tally. I just do my job. As ordered by you and your fellow shareholders.”
He stood, walked to the bed, and sat on the edge.
De Florio approached in front of him.
“Is there a file on me, Jon?”
