CHAPTER FOUR
Wallace Robbins sat in the board room glancing nervously at the four men and his former wife, Vicki, seated about the long, highly polished table. Two of them were drinking coffee, two were smoking cigars, but all wore the looks of businessmen who had wandered into the wrong business.
Trying to appear nonchalant Wallace took a deep drag on his cigar and blew smoke into the air, watching it dissolve before it reached the ceiling. "You know," he said softly, "I don't know what the hell you're all so damned worried about."
Vicki laughed abruptly. Several of the men groaned. One of them, a balding, red-faced, middle-aged man
-whose suit seemed too tight for him screeched. "All our money and our lives, too, are tied up in this factory. If you start passing your shares around to
