3, 9:44 a.m.Carmichael stepped out of the cab and got drenched in a sudden downpour. Welcome to Seattle. Deciding it would take longer to dig out his umbrella than reach the cover of the building, he sprinted toward the glass door marked JB Pharmaceuticals.Once inside, Carmichael checked his watch. Fifteen minutes before ten. After passing through the security checkpoint, he would have just enough time to scoot into a men’s room and see how much damage the rain had done.The bathroom, with its pink and gray marbled counter and twenty-foot-long mirror, was a long way from the primitive furnishings at the compound. He reminded himself that material things were not important.After quickly combing his hair and drying his loafers as best as he could with paper towels, Carmichael grabbed the elevator and rode to the tenth floor. Gerald Akron’s secretary, a large plain-looking woman packed into a small dress, stared at him suspiciously when he walked in.“Can I help you?”“I’m David Carmichael.
