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“Mr. Renshaw?”
The desk clerk’s voice caught him halfway to the elevator, and Renshaw turned around impatiently. The envelope in his coat pocket, stuffed with twenties and fifties, crackled heavily. The job had gone well and the pay had been excellent, but now all he wanted was a hot shower and sleep.
“What is it?”
This time the face had been that of a sallow Miami businessman by the name of Hans Morris, founder and owner of the Morris Toy Company. Someone had wanted Morris out of the way and called the Organization. The Organization called John Renshaw. Mourners please omit flowers.
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