The Chief’s office at 83 Avenue Foch was separated from the main bullpen of the Intelligence Section by a single, heavy mahogany door. Julian’s new office as Deputy Section Chief sat mirrored on the opposite side of the floor.
The section was a triptych of rooms: a central hive where typewriters clattered and cigarette smoke pooled under green-shaded lamps, flanked by the two private command centers.
Julian did not retreat to his new desk. Instead, he lingered in the common area, exchanging superficial pleasantries with the junior analysts—playing the part of the well-connected "Scoundrel" who had just stumbled into a promotion. After a few minutes of establishing his presence, he pushed open the door to Su Bai’s office without knocking.
"Deputy Chief Vance," Su Bai said, looking up fro
