As soon as she heard they were police, the receptionist froze for a moment. "Please wait a moment."
Then she transferred them from the Secretary's Office to the Chairman's office; after a long pause, someone on the other end finally said, "Let them come up."
The receptionist politely gestured, "Please follow me."
Then she led me and Charles Green into the elevator, heading for the top floor—the Chairman's office.
Once inside, the receptionist closed the door. I saw that out on the wide balcony, a middle-aged man was playing golf, sending a ball arcing out toward Crimson Riverfront.
I motioned for Charles to take a seat to the side, then I slid open the glass door and stepped out onto the balcony.
The Chairman knew they'd arrived, but kept swinging his club. Still, he spoke in a way that made it clear he was talking to me: "If I don't cooperate with you, what are you planning to do to me?"
I grinned. "Why do you say that, Mr. Allen?"
