Dzinski shut the elevator door and waited as it clicked and climbed. On the top, a couple stood in the hall, arguing. He picked up a bit of their conversation, and then shouldered past them.
“Excuse me,” a nasal, high-pitched voice said. “Excuse me.”
He turned and was surprised to see the man coming after him.
“This is a private floor,” he said. “No solicitors.”
Dzinski said he was expected, and was already a few minutes late. The man snarled, asking what his business was, trying to insinuate something.
Dzinski ignored him and continued down the hall to the penthouse.