"You've found him," Erik said, closing and tucking a red leather book under his arm. The pen disappeared into his suit jacket pocket before he turned in the direction of the voice.
The man who stood before him carried power in his shoulders. Erik had been around power long enough to identify it without a second glance. More than that, however, the composer couldn't attribute to his guest. The face was not familiar. He was positive that they had never done business together in the past.
"I am Erik," he said, offering a black-gloved hand. It was, after all, the thing that was done on first meetings.