Gifford， aged fifty-five， considered that he had<br >good reason to feel proud of himself. Seated in his luxurious<br >office on the top floor of a giant office monolith， he could see<br >the city of London spread out literally， if not figuratively， at<br >his feet. At four o clock in the afternoon， he was enjoying a<br >Chivas Regal with ice before leaving for his home in Mayfair.<br >He stared pensively at the rooftops far below， and thought<br >back over the last few months...<br > In New York， his office had been on the nineteenth floor，<br >with three floors above. Those three floors had， for a long<br >time， imposed an intolerable burden on Samuel Gifford s<br >shoulders. With his appointment to London as managing di-<br >rector of a large subsidiary firm， that burden had been<br >removed. Like many power seekers before him， he was well<br >aware of the psychological advantage of being above every-<br >one else. Samuel Gifford was certain he would never again<br >feel like a small man trapped in a lift among tall people， who<br >talk to each other over his head， oblivious to his presence.<br > During his first four months in London， he had worked<br >hard to consolidate his position. He had won a number of<br >major contracts and knew the corporation directors in New<br >York were pleased with his progr6ss.<br ><br ><br >
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