It was not difficult to locate Sam Wallace. He was a well-known fixture at Delmonico’s on Fifth Street and Forty-Fourth Avenue. It was his unofficial office. When George walked in, he saw Sam sitting with two fat cats, probably bankers, George surmised. They were going over some paperwork strewn about across some architectural drawings that draped over the table.

“These are the final figures as you requested, Mr. Wallace,” said one of the bankers.

“This includes the cost for permits and other, well, supplementary costs?” Sam said it with a knowing smile and the bankers both shared a look and nodded.

“Yes, we took all things into consideration,” said the other banker.

Sam studied the paperwork. He shuffled through the pages then picked up a cigarette that was res...

Please subscribe to keep reading.