Chapter 2
Three o'clock on a Thursday after-noon in early July, Max Flagg looked out his office window. Bright sunlight made the buildings on the other side of Park Avenue South look almost brilliant. He wished he were out in that sunlight. Well, in twenty-six hours plus whatever time it took him to clear up the odds and ends on his desk, he would be on vacation.
Not quite on vacation. There was, of course, the matter of the Stanton contract.
Georgia came in carrying a sheaf of papers clipped to envelopes. She placed them on the desk before him.
"That's all of it, Max," she said. "If you'll sign it, I'll get it into the mail right away."
"Thanks, Georgia."
She was standing much too close to his chair, practically leaning over him. His shoulder brushed her waist as he moved forward to
