Daniel Hathorne stood in the office doorway and smiled with delight that his plan, insidious as it were, might come to complete and absolute fruition. His men had collected her, the one woman that Longfellow would die attempting to retrieve, even if he thought that she had betrayed him.
He walked towards the elevators, his bodyguard closely behind, a man who has protected the “businessman” for over twenty years. Hathorne stopped to ask Theodore a question when the elevator dinged. Both men slowly looked up and saw the man, bloodied, his glasses missing a lens, and his leather Fedora in his hand. He came alone, a foolish mistake the men thought.
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