Nichols greeted them in his private office. Out of uniform, he wore a hound’s-tooth sports jacket with suede patches at the elbows, gray gabardine trousers, a heather cashmere sweater-vest over a light-blue dress shirt, and an Ivy-League bowtie with rep stripes. He looked more like an English professor or a friendly shrink than the most powerful – and some would say, ruthless – man in the city, perhaps in the state.
The reception did not go in any way as Eli had expected. Nichols offered them a ready smile, a warm handshake, and fresh coffee. Eli declined the coffee, fearing that accepting the man’s graciousness would be a step in the wrong direction. As they sat down in upholstered chairs, the chief began where Eli had expected to end. “Count yourself lucky,” he assured Eli. “I don’t thi
