The Decision
Greer arrived at ten. Lucian had called him at nine fifteen — I’d heard the call through the open door, which was still open, which I was still getting used to. Short. Precise. Today. Eleven. Bring the Webb file. I made coffee for both of them without being asked and left it outside the door when the meeting started. At eleven fifty-three Greer came out alone. He stopped at my desk — something he’d never done before — and looked at me with the particular expression of a man who’d just been in a room where something significant had been decided. “He’d like you to join us,” he said. Lucian was standing at the window. The Webb file was open on the desk — the full documentation, four weeks of it, from the original Calder filing through the Harrow Capital chain and the Meridian Eleven disc
- Writer
