Two
I was up early the next morning and had a quick breakfast in the hotel. I had a couple of small drinks for the benefit of my hangover and then went over to the Intercontinental offices on Superior Avenue. I told them who I was, and I was ushered right into Mr. Hudson’s office.
He was a road-company version of Martin Raymond. He was wearing a Brooks Brothers suit, or a reasonable facsimile. He had the handshake of the young executive who knows damn well who’s going to salute the flag when he runs it up the pole. Martin Raymond must have given me quite a buildup to him because he was impressed even though he was trying to suppress it.
“Well, it’s a pleasure to have you here,” he said. “Martin was telling me how much good work you’ve done for the company. And I’ve read some of the repo
