The boardroom doors hissed open on a scene of smug triumph. Twelve faces around the polished mahogany table froze, their glasses of celebratory whiskey halfway to their lips. The air, thick with the scent of expensive cigars and betrayal, turned to ice.

Mr. Sterling, having taken a frantic service elevator, stood panting at the head of the table. "This is an outrage! Security!"

Harold didn't even glance at him. He walked to the vacant chair at the table's head, the one ...