Mr. Westbrook?”“Yes. Would you mind stepping into my office with me so I can get the whole story?”Jerome nodded. Be polite. “It will be my ple...sure, Sir.”“Coffee, Tea or soda, Mr. Washington?”“Thank you, Sir. Tea, with cream, no sugar, if that is possible.”“I’ll see to it,” Mrs. Carling declared while Westbrook led the way back to his office. Once inside he indicated a plush visitor’s chair and sat down behind his cluttered desk.Westbrook pressed an intercom button. “No interruptions, please.”. It had become a sort of touchstone for him, a divining rod. Often times he had made life or death decisions, just from the feeling it gave him when he touched it. Secretly it made him sad, to take comfort in something so hard and lifeless, but that was life for the man who stood there on the narrow street, dressed in black from head to toe. His hand didn’t find its way to the gun this time, though. ‘Leave your cannons at home for this one Nails.’ Echoed a gravelly voice in his the back of his. More

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