The wood and frosted glass door rattled gently. She waited for an answer. She looked to her right and left and listened, but the entire floor was quiet at a few minutes past noon, as she had hoped it would be; city workers took their lunchtime seriously, but the higher-ups often went out later. She heard someone cough inside the office. She knocked again. “Come in,” a man’s voice finally called out from within. She opened the door and stepped inside. An empty steel desk stood to the right of an open door. “In here,” the man called. “My assistant is out to lunch.” She went into the next office and saw a heavyset, balding man eating a sandwich at a wooden desk. He stared up at her, his eyes demanding what she wanted of him, then frowned and looked puzzled by what she was carrying. “Going bowling?” he asked, pointing at her bag. “Yes,” she replied, setting it down. “May I talk to you?” He nodded and continued eating. “Pull up that chair.” “Thanks, but I won’t take much of your lunchtime,”
