He walked over to a door by the floor to ceiling bookshelf and let himself in, through the gracious ante-room by the commode and into his heavy wood and leather office. He immediately saw the reason for the urgency.
"Miles, Miles Foster, my boy! How are you?" Marvin Jacobs walked straight to Miles, vigorously shook his hand and gave him a big friendly bear hug.
Miles smiled from ear to ear. "It's been cold out there. Glad to be home." He looked around the room and nodded appreciative- ly. "You've been decorating again."
"Twice. You haven't been in this office for, what is it, five years?" Jacobs held Miles by the shoulders. "My God it's good to see you. You don't look any the worse for wear."
"I had a great boss, treated me real nice," Miles said.
"Come here, sit down," Marvin said ushering Miles over to a thickly padded couch. "If you don't already know it, this coun- try owes you a debt of thanks."
"I know," Miles said, even though he had been paid over three million dollars by Homosoto.
"A drink, son?" At fifty-five, the red faced paunch bellied Jacobs looked old enough to be Miles' father, even though they were only fifteen years apart.
"Glenfiddich on the rocks." Miles felt comfortable. Totally comfortable and in control of the situation.
"Done." DIRNSA Jacobs pressed a button which caused a hidden bar to be exposed from a mirror paneled wall. The James Bondish tricks amused Miles. "Excuse me," he said to Miles. "Let me get rid of my other appointments." Jacobs handed Miles the drink and leaned over his desk speaking into telephone. "Uh, Miss Gree- ley, cancel my dates for the rest of the day, would you please?"