"Wake up your word processor, Toby," Grayson commanded, turning away from the invisible Oracle Terminal. "We have documents to draft."
Toby groaned, rubbing his eyes as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Draft documents? Gray, it's almost three in the morning. Can't we ruin these guys after breakfast?"
"By breakfast, the Omega Media transition team in Chicago will be finalizing their restructuring agenda. By breakfast, Pacific Northwest Bancorp's risk management officers will be opening their morning mail," Grayson said, his voice a tight coil of energy. "The timing has to be flawless. Boot up the machine."
Toby sighed, shuffling over to his desk. He flipped the heavy switch on the back of his beige Macintosh Classic. The machine whined, a floppy disk drive grinding loudly bef
