The CommissionI felt so taken aback that I simply let Tony lead me into the room.
The walls were two tones of mustard-brown split by a golden edging. Thick reddish-brown carpeting covered the floor. Round tables filled the room, surrounded by chairs upholstered in Paisley, woven in green, gray, gold, and brown.
As when I last dined there with Charles Hart, he sat facing us at a table in the center of the room: an overweight, white-haired man of three and seventy. However, instead of being set for luncheon, the oak-stained wooden table lay bare, without so much as a tablecloth.
And he didn’t sit alone.
Alexander Clubb and Julius Diamond also sat, one on each side. Along the walls, armed men from all Four Families stood at guard.
None of the Patriarchs rose. “Come in,” said Mr. Clubb. A
