Chapter 77

He had about three minutes of quiet before there was another knock on his office door. Marc looked up from his computer and suppressed his grimace, putting on a magnanimous smile instead as he stood up and went to the door.

“Gregory,” he said. “Bonjour. I had a feeling I would be getting a visit from my favourite member of the Board today.”

“Marc,” Gregory Stanhope said as he took the invitation in, patting Marc on the shoulder. “How are you feeling?”

“About how I look, I expect,” Marc said, closing the door and gesturing that they could sit in the chairs as opposed to facing off over the desk. Both men took their seats, Gregory with the bit of grumble that came with being a man of his age.

“Was that Victor I saw leaving your lobby?” Gregory asked once they were settled. “Honestly, Marc, I know we give you about as much latitude as a man could ask for in this business, but Victor as a client?”

“Ah, oui, yes, I understand,” Marc said. As soon as he’d seen Gregory at the game, he’d known this conversation would need to happen. Victor being here moments before only increased the need. “Before I answer that, perhaps you could ... assuage my own thoughts, Gregory. How did you know about the poker game on Saturday and get your invitation?”

“Friend of a friend situation,” Gregory said. Then his eyes widened a little. “Oh, you’re worrying the same things about me that I am about you.”

“Quite possibly,” Marc said with a little smile. “What ... sort of man would you consider the ‘friend of a friend’ who got you that invitation?”

“Fairweather, occasionally interesting, and not that trustworthy when it would matter,” Gregory said. “I’d throw him a lifeline if he fell off a boat into the lake, but I wouldn’t dive in after him by any means.”

“Mmm,” Marc nodded. “And your impression of Victor?”

“Exactly what he appeared to be, I should think,” Gregory said. “A lowbrow gangster running a poker game in a warehouse. What do you think of him?”

“I think he’s a more dangerous man than you might suspect because he is a lowbrow gangster running a poker game in a warehouse that attracts men like you and I to have a reason to rub elbows with some of the other men and women there.”

“Mm,” Gregory grunted.

Marc took in a breath and let it out, making a decision. “Victor is not a client of the firm,” he said. “I’ve ... made the appearance of agreeing to do some off-the-books work for him. Call it a personal financial audit. But because he is ... who he is, there are no contracts. And, I’m trusting you with this, Gregory - I am passing along everything I learn about his operation to the police.”