“Relax, Sam. It’s routine.”
“It certainly is not. I thought we had an agreement. They even
had McAllister on, talking about it. I warned you.”
“McAllister is the least o f our problems, Sam. The request was
a formality. We don’t have to take part.”
Sam shook his head with a frown. Adam watched him closely.
He wasn’t really angry.
Sam suddenly jumped to his feet and walked across the office
and back. He finally stopped. “I want you to do me a favor,” he
said, quietly. He breathed slowly.
“I’m listening,” Adam said.
Sam picked up an envelope. He handed it to Adam.
“I want you to deliver that.”
“To whom ?”
“Quince Lincoln. I’ve worked on it for a week,” he said, “but
I’ve thought about it for forty years.”
“What’s in the letter?” Adam asked slowly.