Harry liked that. No one passing in the street could see him at his clandestine labours. The department consisted of several desks, a medium-sized computer, and a wall of filing cabinets. Harry opened his briefcase and took out three sharpened pencils, a pad of foolscap, and a pocket calculator that ran on batteries. He laid out his tools of the trade on one of the desks and walked over to the filing cabinets. “You want us to give you a hand?” I asked. James and I were standing at the door into the accounting area. I didn’t feel useful. “No,” Harry said. He pulled open one of the drawers in the wall. A row of brown file folders filled the length of the drawer. Each folder had an indicator tag sticking out of the top at the left side. Harry flipped through the folders, stopped, and looked back to James and me. “No, for chrissake, Crang,” he said. “Bad enough in here without you guys hanging over my shoulder.” James and I stepped into the hall. “You’re on guard duty,”
