Why don't you fill me in, make the situation come alive." To put him at ease, I motioned to the file and said, "Facts, reports, other people's insights-they're static. Sitting in my clients' chair and having me set the terms was something Hy wasn't altogether prepared for. But he seldom dealt with me on a professional basis I'd contracted a few times with Renshaw & Kessell International, the security firm in which he was a partner, but I'd reported to either Gage Renshaw or Dan Kessell. A handsome man, my husband, with his hawk nose and luxuriant mustache and intelligent brown eyes. Momentarily he looked disconcerted, running his fingers through his thick, dark blond curls. Maybe you should read the file, and then we'll talk." "And why's he called 'the ever-running man'?" "This is the job you mentioned last night at dinner?"
It was at least three inches thick, with multicolored pages. He dropped the fat file on my desk and sat in one of the clients' chairs, stretching out his long legs and crossing them at the ankle. "Here's what we have on the ever-running man," Hy said.
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