So he walked toward the train station.
Toward the tallest building in the city.
Toward the thirty-fourth floor.
Toward a man who had no idea that the old homeless man in the torn brown jacket was about to walk into his world.
The Thirty-Fourth Floor
Hail Capital occupied the upper floors of a glass tower that seemed designed to make ordinary people feel small.
Joseph stood in the lobby beneath a chandelier larger than his old living room.
A security guard looked at him.
Then at his torn sleeve.
Then back at him.
"Can I help you?"
"I have an appointment with Marcus Hail."
The guard's eyebrows rose.
"Do you?"
Joseph nodded.
"Not exactly."
"Then I can't let you upstairs."
Joseph took out his phone.
"I called yesterday."
The guard glanced at the phone.
"Who did you speak with?"
"An assistant."
"Name?"
Joseph thought for a second.
"Angela."
The guard checked something.
"There's no appointment."
"I know."
"Then you can't go up."
Joseph did not argue.
He had learned something during nine days of failure.
Arguing with people who had been instructed to say no rarely changed anything.
So he sat in a chair near the reception desk.
The receptionist watched him.
Ten minutes passed.
Twenty.
Thirty.
Finally, a woman approached.
"Mr. Franklin?"
Joseph stood.
"Yes."
"I'm Marcus Hail's executive assistant."
Joseph smiled.
"Thank you for coming down."
She looked uncomfortable.
"I was told you had been calling."
"I have."
"Mr. Hail is in a meeting."
"I'll wait."
She glanced at his clothes.
"You may have to wait a while."
"I've waited longer."
She left.
Joseph sat again.
He waited another forty minutes.
Then the elevator opened.
Three executives walked toward a conference room.
One of them noticed Joseph.
He whispered something.
They laughed.
Joseph ignored them.
A few minutes later, the executive assistant returned.
"He'll see you."
Joseph stood.
The elevator carried him to the thirty-fourth floor.
When the doors opened, the city appeared beneath floor-to-ceiling windows.
Joseph followed the assistant into the conference room.
Marcus Hail sat at the head of a massive table.
He was forty-five.
Perfect suit.
Perfect haircut.
Perfect posture.
Three executives sat around him.
One of them was already smiling.
Marcus looked Joseph up and down.
"So," he said, "you're the man who has been calling my office."
"I am."
"You know, Mr. Franklin, there are proper channels for these things."
"I tried them."
Marcus leaned back.
"And?"
"No one answered."
One executive chuckled.
Marcus raised a hand.
"So you came here."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Joseph opened his canvas bag.
He took out a folder.
"Because fourteen families are going to lose their homes in eleven days."
Marcus glanced at the folder.
"Those people are not legal tenants."
"I know."
"The property was acquired legally."
"I know."
"The demolition permit was approved."
"I know."
Marcus's smile widened.
"Then I'm afraid I don't understand the problem."
Joseph slowly looked around the room.
"The problem is that you're asking the law to answer a human question."
Nobody laughed this time.
Marcus folded his hands.
"What human question?"
Joseph opened the folder.
He placed a photograph on the table.
It showed Gloria standing outside the building.
"She has been sober for three years."
Another photograph.
"Terrence works two jobs. His daughters share one mattress."
Another.
"Edmund and Celeste are in their seventies. Their son needs six weeks to move them."
Marcus barely glanced at the pictures.
"Mr. Franklin, I sympathize."
"No, you don't."
The room became still.
Joseph's voice remained calm.
"You know facts. You don't know people."
Marcus's jaw tightened.
"You walked into my office and accused me of not caring?"
"I'm telling you that you haven't looked."
Marcus stood.
"I have looked at the numbers."
"That's exactly what I mean."
One executive leaned forward.
"This is ridiculous."
Joseph turned toward him.
"What's your name?"
The man hesitated.
"Daniel."
"Daniel, if your mother lived in that building, would you call this ridiculous?"
Daniel said nothing.
Joseph turned back to Marcus.
"I don't want your company to lose money."
Marcus stared at him.
"Then what do you want?"
"Sixty days."
Marcus laughed.
Not loudly at first.
Just a short breath.
Then the laughter grew.
"Sixty days?"
"Yes."
"To do what?"
"Give people time to find somewhere else."
"We don't have sixty days."
"You have eleven."
Marcus shook his head.
"Mr. Franklin, you don't understand development."
"I used to run a community development organization."
Marcus paused.
Joseph continued.
"I understand more than you think."
For a moment, something almost like respect appeared in Marcus's eyes.
Then it disappeared.
"You should leave."
Joseph nodded.
He closed the folder.
But before he stood, he looked directly at Marcus.
"I'm asking you one last time."
Marcus crossed his arms.
"And if I say no?"
Joseph reached into his coat pocket.
He pulled out his phone.
"Then I'll make a call."
Marcus smiled.
"To whom?"
"Someone who knows Lammer Street."
"Call whoever you want."
Joseph pressed a number.
The phone rang.
Once.
Twice.
Then a voice answered.
"Joe?"
Joseph looked at Marcus.
"Yes."
"How did it go?"
Joseph took a breath.
"Exactly as we expected."
Marcus's smile faded slightly.
Joseph continued.
"I'd like you to speak with Mr. Hail."