Richard Holloway sat behind a desk that cost more than most people's cars, in an office designed to project the permanence of success, and felt the floor tilt beneath him.
The message had arrived seven minutes ago.
He had read it three times.
Now he sat very still, his phone resting face-down on the mahogany surface as if hiding it might undo its contents, his hands flat against the leather blotter where his initials were embossed in gold. The afternoon light filtered through floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a view of the city he had spent fifteen years climbing to reach, and he could not have said what color the sky was if his life depended on it.
Recent developments require that a colleague of mine join your organization.
He closed his eyes.
