To a point.
“Look, they could be nothing at all,” he said. “Just some mumbo jumbo that’s irrelevant to anything I need to be concerned about. But the level of security protecting them makes me curious. Do this. Take a look. If what you find crosses any ethical line with your newfound position as a company lawyer, then don’t tell me a thing. Keep it to yourself. But if it’s nothin’ at all—just some crap—you can tell me that, can’t you? To put my mind at ease.”
Hank could see that he’d gotten to his old buddy.
Logic is your friend. Use it.
“Sure,” Brent said. “I can do that.”
DAY SEVEN
MONDAY, JUNE 12
8:05A.M.
CHRIS MARCHED ACROSS THEBLUETOWER’S TWENTY-NINTH FLOOR,away from management’s corner, to the cadre of offices that accommodated the company’s sales force and chief of security.
Jon De Florio’s office didn’t share the prestige he, Lee, and Hughes enjoyed, but it was respectable and the position came with two subordinates and an administrative assistant. More than enough help to accommodate the meager responsibilities the official position actually entailed.
He noticed the assistant’s desk was empty. He and De Florio were often first in every morning. So he stopped at the open doorway to the private office.
“You’ve come a long way,” he quietly said.
De Florio, framed by an overcast morning filtered even grayer by the tinted glass, looked up from what he was reading.
“It’s been, what, fifteen years? You’ve done a lot here.”
“The Priority program is on a steady course,” De Florio said in his characteristic low voice.
“Not like in the beginning, huh? Prioritizing was so haphazard. We never considered pattern, variation, or verification. Those little things that make all the difference. But you fixed that, Jon. The Rules you fashioned have proven sound. The program’s success is directly attributable to your efforts.”
“I appreciate that, Mr. Bozin. I’ve tried to do a good job.”
He stepped inside. “Do you like your position, Jon?”
“This office, my title, yes, they’re measures of respectability my actual profession never enjoys.”
He liked that there was no pretense between them. No secrets either. “I’ve noticed that you spend more time in here than you used to.”
De Florio nodded. “I’ve been devoting more attention to my public position. My associates are competent and handle the Priority orders efficiently. They don’t need me standing over them. That’s one reason I requested the third associate earlier this year.”
“I understand you’re back to two again?”
“Unfortunately, I had to terminate the employment of one.”
“Will the loss be a problem?”
“I’m already looking for another, and should have somebody in place by August. Luckily, background files on the three new Priorities approved a few days ago were generated in April. It’s the pre-work that consumes the time. On-site surveillance. Records review. My associates devote about eighty percent of their time to file generation and twenty percent to actual processing.”
“But that eighty percent is time well spent.”
De Florio nodded. “There’s a proven correlation between a successful processing and a thorough file.”
He was impressed with how effortlessly the man sitting across from him discussed murder.
“And,” De Florio said, “with union negotiations approaching, I assume there will be a one- to two-month lull in any new Priority approval, as in the past.”
“A safe assumption. Negotiations tend to consume everyone’s attention, at least for a while. Realistically, it will be July before any new names are added to the list.” He motioned to the mail and files stacked on one corner. “You seem to have a lot to do.”
