“Well now… this won’t do…”
His soft round features were heavily marred by the vicious scowl. Contemptuously, he tossed the slim folder onto his desk. The greasy looking personage standing before him grinned hopefully. Pulling out a roll of $20’s, he tossed them to the man, who bowed slightly before exiting the large room.
With his informant gone, the man stood and began to pace, mulling over the scant information he’d just read – already formulating a scheme.
“This simply won’t do.”
He often spoke to himself – at least, he claimed it was to himself.
With a finger, he flicked the folder open. He drew a handkerchief and mopped his balding forehead thoughtfully.
“Mr. Thompson… let’s see what you really are made of…”
He shuffled around the desk and lowered his bulky frame into the chair. A small bell sitting on his desk quickly summoned a servant.
The slight man coughed fitfully before speaking.
A finger tapped the folder.
“Bring this Thompson to me.”
“Yes, Mr. Kramer.”