He glanced across at the old, brass wind-up chronometer on his bookshelf. It was coming up on six in the evening. The ticking of the clock, the green shaded desk lamps throwing their mellow light down on the miniature city blocks of paper files, but leaving the upper reaches of his high-ceilinged office in relative gloom, all created the impression of an archaic museum exhibit. The office of a university don, preserved from the late 1800s. But he preferred it that way. Clockwork timepieces did not fail when the power went down, or their batteries ran out, and the necessity of winding them up at regular intervals imposed an exemplary discipline upon the mind. The paper files, too, might give the impression of bygone inefficiency, but in his experience, the efficiency with which electronic files could be copied and rapidly disseminated to a virtually infinite audience made working with hard copy a no-brainer. The security issue he dealt with by having two Marines on guard at his door whenever he had to break out the files. These folders, for instance, would remain stacked on his desk overnight, just in case he was able to sneak away from the President’s fundraiser in a couple of hours, to squeeze in a little bit more Machiavellian plotting.

For now, unfortunately, duty called him back to human contact. He had a short amount of time to freshen up and change before dinner and drinks with a roomful of potential donors. He already knew from past experience that Kipper would be absolutely hopeless when it came to putting the bite on people, so that was another unpleasant necessity that would fall to him.

He stood, with arms folded, his chin resting on his broad chest, and sighed. Somewhere in that mini Manhattan of paper was an answer. He had towers of documents detailing Blackstone’s official efforts to resist and undermine the settlement programs down in the Federal Mandate, and two solid blocks of binders containing classified files, among them investigators’ reports about Fort Hood’s suspected complicity in the ‘unofficial’ resistance to Seattle’s settlement program.

Thank you, Sarah Humboldt. Thank you, FBI.