Chapter Two: Merry Gentlemen
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He frowned. It was not the kind of frown that betrayed his genuine emotions, but it’s what everyone who met him always said first afterward. He seemed trapped in an emotional state of disapproval. When he got the call from Hitchens and Watterson, they reported precisely what he wanted to hear. He frowned. Mr. Dawkins left little question he was a serious figure. His demeanor and attitude never allowed for any other interpretation. In truth, Mr. Dawkins didn’t ever feel much of anything, maybe slight variations of mad, sad, glad, and annoyed. Nothing ever enough to make him smile. With the news he received, it meant he now must set the ball in motion.

He reached for the cellphone sitting on the black leather pad which sat on the massive, ornate wooden desk. Calls needed to happen now, and peop...

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