Gritting her teeth, she glanced at her watch. 4:21. It had been practically an hour since Paige had left them in the conference room, and Mariam and Fadi would be coming to pick them up in less than ten minutes. Tired of sitting, she got up and paced the length of the room. “Do you think they forgot about us?” she asked. “Maybe,” said Wali, his eyes stormy. “But we can’t give up yet. We have to talk to Ronald.” Ariana heard the desperation in his voice and cracked open the door. The hall was empty, but Ariana could hear the gentle hum of the computers in the other room. She nudged the door shut and moved toward the window, where the sun had begun to slip into the horizon. The cold glass felt good against her flushed face as she looked down to the street. Fewer cars filled the parking lot than when they’d arrived, and staffers were heading out—probably to go door-to-door, reminding people to vote—for Ronald Hammersmith, of course.
