There’s no need for theatrics.”

I followed her through the double doors.

The dining table had been cleared of everything but a white legal pad and five black leather briefcases.

Five men got to their feet when I walked in.

I recognized David Gable by his fountain pen, a silver Montblanc he held like a little baton.

The other four I knew from the photos in Marcus’s file, though I had never met any of them.

Gable motioned to the chair at the head of the table.