“the next day. Two armed men in business suits sat in the front seat of the lead Range Rover. The backseat was folded down to accommodate eight aluminum hard-shell suitcases, each containing the euro cash equivalent of slightly more than $3 million that had been withdrawn from a half dozen banks around London. The second Range Rover carried two more armed men and, in the backseat, Demetrio Violante, who’d flown into London that morning. He wore a blue two-button Brioni wool and silk suit, an azu...re and blue micro-checked cotton shirt, a sky-blue silk tie, palladium cufflinks, and polished black calfskin derby dress shoes. He wasn’t dressed for Hartley, for whom he had no respect. He was dressed for the money, which he respected enormously. The cars drove to the south-facing entrance, which had the requisite grand portico adorned with polished marble and a large elaborate fountain. Violante called Hartley on his cellphone. “It’s Demetrio Violante. I’m outside your building.” “Excellent.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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