Bound Good Sam

It was a few days before Christmas in 1998. A light snow was swirling in the 30 mph winds blowing off of Lake Michigan. The winter wind in Chicago seems to gain strength as it whips through the buildings and down Michigan Avenue. It was about 2:30 p.m. and a stocky businessman on the wrong side of 50 entered the hotel bar. His flight home was scheduled for 6:55 p.m. and he wanted to relax before leaving for O'Hare Airport. He was tired and chose a stool near the end of the bar. He was carrying an expensive overnight bag and a matching attaché

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