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Authors: Frederick H. Crook
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clients.”
“Do you gentleman have an appointment?”
“No, and we don’t need one. Please take us to him,” Campanelli stressed heavily, though he remained polite.
“I see,” Marta said, seemingly unaffected by the man’s insistence. “I am contacting him now,” the machine said as it sent a message to its master. It took only a few seconds to receive a response. “He will be happy to see you in a moment. His meeting is ending now. If you gentlemen would wait here with me?”
“Thank you,” Frank granted.
The wait was less than thirty seconds. From a corner office to their extreme left came the sound of brief, but raucous laughter from behind frosted glass walls. Shadows within began to move as they arose from chairs and soon, they angled toward the door.
“Well, we’ll just let that take its course, then,” said the first visible figure as the door opened, a man in an expensive, shiny suit. He was taller than Frank, about five foot ten. Campanelli recognized the white-haired man as someone he had seen recently, though the name escaped him for the moment. The second to exit was very tall, almost the height of Williams. His suit was a simple dark blue, but very well cut. He eyed the two detectives warily as they were joined by the third. This one, a dark haired, slightly overweight fellow with a sculpted five o’clock shadow clapped the first one on the shoulder, initiating a handshake. After a brief exchange of farewells, the visitors headed toward Frank and Marcus, who were still near the elevator.
The large man led his companion, virtually blocking the shorter, older man from their view. As the lawyer had only granted a brief nod to him once their business was concluded, Frank assumed that he was nothing more than muscle, a bodyguard. This made the familiar figure behind him all the more interesting. As they approached, Marcus tapped the elevator’s call button and smiled congenially.
The big man did not return it, but his companion spoke up. “Good morning. Thank you, sir. God bless you,” he said with a winning smile that exploded in a brilliant row of whitened teeth against tanned skin.
Marcus returned the ‘good morning’ as his unsmiling eyes swept over the bodyguard’s face. Frank looked hard at the both of them, accessed his bio-electronic manager and took several stills of both men.
“Have a blessed day, gentlemen,” White Hair said.
Frank nodded as the doors closed. The doppelganger spoke as her boss approached them.
“Detectives Frank Campanelli and Marcus Williams,” Marta said as she gestured to them with her left arm, “Attorney Gianfranco Beritoni,” she flagged him with her right.
“Gentlemen,” Beritoni orated and smiled, though it was guarded, “good morning. Shall we talk in private?”
“Please,” Frank answered and the two detectives followed him inside.
Beritoni closed the door and, keeping the same smile on his face, he took his seat behind the large and ornate mahogany desk and folded his hands over his tie. “Now, how can I help you gentlemen?”
“We are looking for a client of yours, Mister Beritoni,” Campanelli spoke out.
“And who might that be, sir?” Gianfranco said in a rich tone. To Frank, the man sounded as if he belonged on stage somewhere, acting in a play by Shakespeare. His deep brown hair hung just below the ears and was parted on his left side, allowing it to hang near his right eye. Beritoni used this for an affectation, giving his head a slight shake to the right to clear the
“Do you gentleman have an appointment?”
“No, and we don’t need one. Please take us to him,” Campanelli stressed heavily, though he remained polite.
“I see,” Marta said, seemingly unaffected by the man’s insistence. “I am contacting him now,” the machine said as it sent a message to its master. It took only a few seconds to receive a response. “He will be happy to see you in a moment. His meeting is ending now. If you gentlemen would wait here with me?”
“Thank you,” Frank granted.
The wait was less than thirty seconds. From a corner office to their extreme left came the sound of brief, but raucous laughter from behind frosted glass walls. Shadows within began to move as they arose from chairs and soon, they angled toward the door.
“Well, we’ll just let that take its course, then,” said the first visible figure as the door opened, a man in an expensive, shiny suit. He was taller than Frank, about five foot ten. Campanelli recognized the white-haired man as someone he had seen recently, though the name escaped him for the moment. The second to exit was very tall, almost the height of Williams. His suit was a simple dark blue, but very well cut. He eyed the two detectives warily as they were joined by the third. This one, a dark haired, slightly overweight fellow with a sculpted five o’clock shadow clapped the first one on the shoulder, initiating a handshake. After a brief exchange of farewells, the visitors headed toward Frank and Marcus, who were still near the elevator.
The large man led his companion, virtually blocking the shorter, older man from their view. As the lawyer had only granted a brief nod to him once their business was concluded, Frank assumed that he was nothing more than muscle, a bodyguard. This made the familiar figure behind him all the more interesting. As they approached, Marcus tapped the elevator’s call button and smiled congenially.
The big man did not return it, but his companion spoke up. “Good morning. Thank you, sir. God bless you,” he said with a winning smile that exploded in a brilliant row of whitened teeth against tanned skin.
Marcus returned the ‘good morning’ as his unsmiling eyes swept over the bodyguard’s face. Frank looked hard at the both of them, accessed his bio-electronic manager and took several stills of both men.
“Have a blessed day, gentlemen,” White Hair said.
Frank nodded as the doors closed. The doppelganger spoke as her boss approached them.
“Detectives Frank Campanelli and Marcus Williams,” Marta said as she gestured to them with her left arm, “Attorney Gianfranco Beritoni,” she flagged him with her right.
“Gentlemen,” Beritoni orated and smiled, though it was guarded, “good morning. Shall we talk in private?”
“Please,” Frank answered and the two detectives followed him inside.
Beritoni closed the door and, keeping the same smile on his face, he took his seat behind the large and ornate mahogany desk and folded his hands over his tie. “Now, how can I help you gentlemen?”
“We are looking for a client of yours, Mister Beritoni,” Campanelli spoke out.
“And who might that be, sir?” Gianfranco said in a rich tone. To Frank, the man sounded as if he belonged on stage somewhere, acting in a play by Shakespeare. His deep brown hair hung just below the ears and was parted on his left side, allowing it to hang near his right eye. Beritoni used this for an affectation, giving his head a slight shake to the right to clear the
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