It was almost one when my delicate probers finally released the spring in the upper lock, enabling me to work the bottom one fairly quickly. The small of my back ached from bending so long. I rubbed it and stretched against the wall, trying to ease out the cramping.

A small night-light gave just enough of a glow to see the elevator buttons. The lobby was minuscule, about big enough for four people to wait together. I pulled out a quarter and flipped it: heads I would ride to the top and make my way down to Carver; tails I’d start on two and go up. In the dim light I could just make out Washington’s profile. I summoned the elevator.

The door opened at once. This meant the last person to use it had been heading down, a good sign even though I didn’t seriously expect to encounter anyone. As the door closed on me I saw an address board on the facing wall. I stuck a foot out, got the door open, and leaned out to get Jonas Carver’s suite number. He was on the sixth floor. Whether I had started at the bottom or the top it would have made no difference. Maybe my luck was turning a bit.

The lock on Carver’s office was much easier to negotiate than the lobby had been. A good thing, since my back protested when I leaned over to play with it. I knelt, trying to find a comfortable working angle, and managed to slide the dead bolt back in about five minutes.

Carver’s office faced the air-shaft side of the building. No streetlamps bent their rays up here. The only light in the room came from a cursor blinking importunately in the middle distance. I groped my way toward it, found the desk it was sitting on, and fumbled around until I found a lamp switch. I don’t know why I hadn’t brought a flashlight with me.

The room, which had seemed immense in the dark, showed up small and austere under the lamplight. Besides the metal desk with the computer, it held two filing cabinets and a small table with an electric coffeemaker. A door at the far end led to a second room, presumably Mr. Carver’s personal headquarters. The desk here was veneered in fake wood; an imitation Chinese rug covered part of the floor. Carver, too, had a computer ready for action.