"He may come, too, if you wish." He smiled. "Whatever you wish."
His voice was not reassuring. "Thank you." She modified her tone. Some of the iciness went out of it. "I'll leave now. Bud will send two C.I.D. men over for you."
Sitting at his desk in his Georgetown apartment, Bud looked through a stack of letters.
Norma, waiting, tried to become interested in a Saturday Evening Post story and failed. She put the magazine aside.
The knock they were waiting for came.
Bud rose and crossed quickly to the door.
"Ah, hello," he said with a genial smile. "If you gentlemen will wait downstairs, I'll call you when they are ready to leave." The C.I.D. men withdrew. "Hello, young fellow. Herb, I believe? And?"
"George.... How would George be?"
"George," the Senator said, pumping the Oligarch's hand and drawing him across the threshold. "I like your people's way of using first names. Very democratic. Just call me Bud."