“Yes, sir.” I stood and left his office.
* * * *
“Mr. Vincent!” I went on the alert. Something had disturbed my usually unflappable secretary. “You have an urgent message! It was routed through Huntingdon’s New England headquarters.”
That was what was bothering her. It was on the record that I worked for Huntingdon. Anyone trying to reach me would have their phone call routed through the Boston office. She handed me the slip of paper with a phone number on it. The area code was for southeastern Massachusetts; it was a Fall River telephone number. I pulled out my cell phone and was punching in the digits as I started for my office.
“I’ll hold your calls, sir.”
“Yeah, thanks.” I entered and shut the door and listened to the ringing at the other end of the line. The words of an old song
