Chapter Nineteen
July Sixteen
2:00 A.M.
There were already several cars parked in the lot when Regis climbed out of the back of the limo. A cluster of men had gathered together by the main door, shifting their feet and chatting with the attitude of those who are waiting to be told what to do next.
“What’s going on here?” he asked gruffly. He recognized most of the men from board meetings. They looked at him, then at each other, as though choosing a spokesman.
One of them cleared his throat. “We all got your memo, Sir.”
“I didn’t send any memos!” he barked. He had been called away from dinner by a cryptic message that sounded urgent enough to get him on his jet flying into this backwater, and he was in no mood for bad jokes.
Another car had pulled in behind the limo. The stranger who
