Oglethorpe?”

“Shut up, Flapjack. Go clean out your desk. You’ve got ten minutes to gather your things. Then Gus will escort you to your car.”

I turn to leave, but Oglethorpe’s door is suddenly blocked by a lean, well-dressed businessman holding a manila folder in his left hand. He looks all business, and tough in a way that reminds me of a thirty-five year old Charles Bronson, with thick, black eyebrows and scrunched up facial features. His French cuffs are held in place with square-cut diamonds that, if real, appear to be at least four carats each. His left wrist sports a diamond-studded Piaget watch with a black alligator wrist band. The lines of the suit are unmistakable, though I’ve seen few of them in Louisville.

Bad as I feel, I can’t help myself. I have to ask. “Is that a Brioni?”

“It is.”

I nod, and start heading for my desk.

“May I help you?” Oglethorpe says, addressing the businessman.

“I’m looking for Buddy Pancake.”

Stunned, I jerk my head around. Hilda, revealing her West End heritage, says, “He don’t work here no more.”

The businessman looks at Oglethorpe. “Is that true?”

“It is.”

“Well that’s a pity.”

“How so?”

“I had hoped to apply for a twenty million dollar line of credit for my business.”

“I can handle that for you!”

“Thanks, but I’ve been told to deal only with Mr. Pancake.” He looks at me. “Are you he?”

I’m too stunned to speak.

“And you are?” Oglethorpe says.

The man presents his card with a practiced flourish.

My hopes are beginning to skyrocket.

But then Oglethorpe reads it and says, “Thomas Jefferson? That’s very funny.”

Thomas Jefferson nods as if he’s accustomed to this type of response. Then he hands Oglethorpe the manila folder.

“My credit information. Let me know by noon on Friday if I might be of value to your bank. Assuming you reconsider employing Mr. Pancake.”

Oglethorpe glances over the papers in the folder. He’s a seasoned professional, adept at getting to the bottom line quickly. As he does so, his eyes grow wide as saucers.

“Do you mean to imply you’re worth a quarter billion dollars?”

“I expect you to do a thorough check.”

“Count on it, Mr. Jefferson. And if this is accurate?” He held the folder in his left hand and tapped it lightly with his right. “You don’t need Mr. Pancake. You can deal with me directly, for instant approval.”

“No offense, but I deal exclusively with Buddy Pancake. If on Friday he’s no longer an employee of your bank I’ll follow him to his next job.”

I can’t believe what’s happening! An hour ago I thought the Blankenships would save my career, but they killed it. Now, this total stranger appears out of nowhere to save my job. I’m overwhelmed. I try to form the proper words to thank him, but when I clear my throat to speak, Mr. Jefferson holds up his hand.

“I’ll require a loan application,” he says.

Oglethorpe isn’t convinced, but he isn’t stupid, either.