Chapter Three
“Ridgeway. It has been some time. Nice to see you again.”
The two men shook hands—Thomas Ridgeway and the very elegant Friedrich Max—then they sat down at a table in the corner of the Gentlemen’s Room, the favorite smoking parlor at the City Club. Though neither man smoked or would imbibe in any liquor at that time of the day, this was an ideal location for a private conversation. One could imagine all sorts of covert deals being conducted in the sophisticated, smoky environs.
Some of his associates thought Friedrich Max was too pretty, too polished, too perfect a man to take seriously when he was in his twenties and early thirties, but as he turned forty, he seemed to mellow some. Though no less elegant, he was not so unabashedly beautiful. His blond hair had darkened, a
