CHAPTER 8

Malcolm****

Malcolm Baal knew someone had quietly entered his home office. Either a foe or close friend.

A friend, he decided. A foe could never make it past the guards at each entrance of his Upper East Side Manhattan townhouse. Or past the guards stationed on each of the five floors.

With his excellent night vision, Malcolm suspected he could see much better than his uninvited guest.

His suspicions were confirmed when the dark silhouette stumbled into a Louis XVI bombe chest and cursed softly.

Jacob Bethram. A friend, but an annoying one. The vice president of marketing for Baaltech Industries tackled every problem with tireless enthusiasm. It was enough to make Malcolm feel old.

Really old. "What do you want, Jacob?"

His guest whipped around and squinted in Malcolm's direction. "Why are you sitting here, all alone in the dark?"

"Hmm. Tough question. I suppose