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"The Renoir. New Orleans. Joe Romano. A woman named Tracy Whitney was convicted and sentenced to fifteen years. The painting hasn't been recovered."
The son of a bitch! Reynolds thought. If it were anyone else,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], I'd think he was showing off. "That's right," Reynolds acknowledged grudgingly. "The Whitney woman has stashed that painting away somewhere,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and we want it back. Go to it."
Cooper turned and left the office without a word. Watching him leave,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych],[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], J. J. Reynolds thought, not for the first time,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], Someday I'm going to find out what makes that bastard tick.
Cooper walked through the office,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], where fifty employees were working side by side,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], programming computers, typing reports, answering telephones. It was bedlam.
As Cooper passed a desk,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], a colleague said, "I hear you got the Romano assignment. Lucky you. New Orleans is---"
Cooper walked by without replying. Why couldn't they leave him alone? That was all he asked of anybody, but they were always pestering him with their nosy overtures.
It had become a game in the office. They were determined to break through his mysterious reserve and find out who he really was.
"What are you doing for dinner Friday night, Dan...?"
"If you're not married, Sarah and I know a wonderful girl, Dan...?"
Couldn't they see he did not need any of them--- didn't want any of them?
"Come on, it's only for a drink...."
But Daniel Cooper knew what that could lead to. An innocent drink could lead to dinner, and a dinner could start friendships,[link widoczny dla zalogowanych], and friendships could lead to confidences. Too dangerous.