noted the security officer. “He has invited you to have brunch with him. You should feel honored; he rarely accepts guests in such a manner.”
“I do,” said Leland, watching the floors click off at lightning speed.
The elevator door opened and Leland came face to face with Mr. Pagoni’s two massive bodyguards. Now Leland was feeling a bit nervous.
“Mr. James, welcome,” said a pretty, well-dressed young women, stepping between the two muscles. “I’m Sylvia, Mr. Pagoni’s personal assistant. Please follow me. You’re right on time. Mr. Pagoni will appreciate that.”
They walked down the wide brightly lit hallway, a hallway lined with beautiful paintings of sylvan landscapes. Leland had never been up here. It made his own condo pale by comparison.
“Mr. Pagoni has told me a lot about you,” said Sylvia. “I can tell that he really likes you.”
They stepped into the main dining area with its long glass table. It offered a panoramic view of the New York skyline through large windows that spanned two of the walls. At the head of the table stood Mr. Pagoni, dressed in a blue business suit.
Pagoni was a relatively tall and thin man in his early sixties. He was quite handsome and had graying hair and a broad, open smile. He walked toward Leland, his arms wide open. They embraced. “Leland, my boy, it is so good to see you again. The man who keeps New York’s finest businessmen and statesmen happy and content is always welcome here.”
“It’s good to see you too, Mr. Pagoni,” said Leland. “You have such a gorgeous home.”
“Thank you so much,” said Pagoni. “We should have done this long ago. Please, have a seat.”
Leland sat by his boss, even as their omelets were set out before them by the chef, who also happened to be a young and beautiful woman. For a time, Pagoni engaged Leland in chitchat. He asked about his grandmother, about his feelings on New York politics, and especially about his young women. It was then that Leland dropped the bombshell.
“Getting out of the business?” asked Pagoni, incredulously. “Why Leland, you are at the height of your game; you’re the best.”
“It is hard to describe, sir,” said Leland, deciding how best to filter the information without outright lying to his boss. It wasn’t out of fear so much as out of respect for this man that he so very much admired.
“Does it have something to do with a large block of gold?” asked Pagoni.
“Yes, in part,” said Leland gingerly pulling the ten pound ingot from his briefcase and placing it on the table.
Pagoni picked it up and examined it. “I’m no expert on gold,” he admitted, “but it looks genuine enough.” He handed it back to Leland. “Tell me, Leland, where did you get this?”
And so the story began. Leland spoke of the rescue in the park, of the two strangers, of his calling to bring the message of God to the world. He spoke of Lusan, without referring to his otherworldly nature. He spoke of his need to get out of the business and why.
Through it all, Mr. Pagoni sat there quietly and thoughtfully. When the tale was told, he leaned back in his chair. “An incredible story,” he noted. “Still, the gold seems to bear it out. I believe you Leland. I’m glad that you came to me with this, and I understand why you want to leave the business of love. Still, it’s a pity. You were so good at it.” There was a pause as Pagoni contemplated the situation. “I’m still willing to help you in your new business, Leland. I could have helped you to market that gold as well; still, let us allow Mr. Silversmith his day of jubilee. What is it that you need from me? How can the company help you?”
Leland was overwhelmed. He had not expected Mr. Pagoni to be this understanding. He could sure use his help. During the next hour they evaluated the situation, solving many of the problems that Leland had not been able to crack. Coming up with forged identity documents for Lusan and Duras that
“I do,” said Leland, watching the floors click off at lightning speed.
The elevator door opened and Leland came face to face with Mr. Pagoni’s two massive bodyguards. Now Leland was feeling a bit nervous.
“Mr. James, welcome,” said a pretty, well-dressed young women, stepping between the two muscles. “I’m Sylvia, Mr. Pagoni’s personal assistant. Please follow me. You’re right on time. Mr. Pagoni will appreciate that.”
They walked down the wide brightly lit hallway, a hallway lined with beautiful paintings of sylvan landscapes. Leland had never been up here. It made his own condo pale by comparison.
“Mr. Pagoni has told me a lot about you,” said Sylvia. “I can tell that he really likes you.”
They stepped into the main dining area with its long glass table. It offered a panoramic view of the New York skyline through large windows that spanned two of the walls. At the head of the table stood Mr. Pagoni, dressed in a blue business suit.
Pagoni was a relatively tall and thin man in his early sixties. He was quite handsome and had graying hair and a broad, open smile. He walked toward Leland, his arms wide open. They embraced. “Leland, my boy, it is so good to see you again. The man who keeps New York’s finest businessmen and statesmen happy and content is always welcome here.”
“It’s good to see you too, Mr. Pagoni,” said Leland. “You have such a gorgeous home.”
“Thank you so much,” said Pagoni. “We should have done this long ago. Please, have a seat.”
Leland sat by his boss, even as their omelets were set out before them by the chef, who also happened to be a young and beautiful woman. For a time, Pagoni engaged Leland in chitchat. He asked about his grandmother, about his feelings on New York politics, and especially about his young women. It was then that Leland dropped the bombshell.
“Getting out of the business?” asked Pagoni, incredulously. “Why Leland, you are at the height of your game; you’re the best.”
“It is hard to describe, sir,” said Leland, deciding how best to filter the information without outright lying to his boss. It wasn’t out of fear so much as out of respect for this man that he so very much admired.
“Does it have something to do with a large block of gold?” asked Pagoni.
“Yes, in part,” said Leland gingerly pulling the ten pound ingot from his briefcase and placing it on the table.
Pagoni picked it up and examined it. “I’m no expert on gold,” he admitted, “but it looks genuine enough.” He handed it back to Leland. “Tell me, Leland, where did you get this?”
And so the story began. Leland spoke of the rescue in the park, of the two strangers, of his calling to bring the message of God to the world. He spoke of Lusan, without referring to his otherworldly nature. He spoke of his need to get out of the business and why.
Through it all, Mr. Pagoni sat there quietly and thoughtfully. When the tale was told, he leaned back in his chair. “An incredible story,” he noted. “Still, the gold seems to bear it out. I believe you Leland. I’m glad that you came to me with this, and I understand why you want to leave the business of love. Still, it’s a pity. You were so good at it.” There was a pause as Pagoni contemplated the situation. “I’m still willing to help you in your new business, Leland. I could have helped you to market that gold as well; still, let us allow Mr. Silversmith his day of jubilee. What is it that you need from me? How can the company help you?”
Leland was overwhelmed. He had not expected Mr. Pagoni to be this understanding. He could sure use his help. During the next hour they evaluated the situation, solving many of the problems that Leland had not been able to crack. Coming up with forged identity documents for Lusan and Duras that
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