He called her on Monday morning.
No assistant. No arranged meeting through professional channels. Just his phone and her number which he still had because six years of someone being useful meant their number stayed in your contacts long after it should have been removed.
She answered on the third ring.
"Daniel."
"I need to see you," he said. "Today."
A pause.
"That's not"
"It's not a request," he said. Quietly. Without heat. "Just tell me where."
Another pause.
"My office," she said. "Noon."
He arrived at eleven fifty eight.
Her office was exactly as it had always been precise and considered, every object in it placed with intention. He'd been here many times over six years. For strategy meetings and planning sessions and the particular kind of conversations that happened betwe
