His mother called him “big-boned” when he was a kid, but he was an ace on the wrestling mat in high school, placing third in the state championship in his weight class in his senior year and earning him a college scholarship. Those were his glory days, at least physically. But that was nearly forty years ago. A lot of water—and chocolate glazed doughnuts—had passed under the bridge since then. His only concession to physical fitness was a set of Zenith hand grippers that he worked at his desk every day.

“There you are,” he muttered to himself, his bleary eyes finally landing on a data cell he’d been searching for. He highlighted it, then pushed his mouse aside. He pulled off his glasses and rubbed his tired eyes. It was only eight in the morning, but he’d come in three hours earlier in order to get a running start on today’s work. Technically he was three days ahead of schedule on his end and the project wasn’t due for another week. But he liked to get his work done ahead of time. His father, a beat cop in Chicago in the fifties and later in Des Moines, where he was killed, taught him as a kid: “Ten minutes early is on time.”

He was thinking about the salami-and-cheddar sandwich in his lunchbox when his intercom buzzed.

“It’s Mr. Hendley, for you,” his assistant said. “Line two.”

Paul hesitated. Why was the director of the firm calling him? He picked up. “Paul Brown here.”

“Paul, it’s Gerry Hendley. How are you?”

Paul smiled. The soft-spoken South Carolina accent sounded quaint in Paul’s midwestern ear. He and Hendley didn’t speak often, but Paul liked the man immensely. He hoped it was mutual.

“Fine, sir. And you?”

“I could use a favor, Paul. I don’t suppose you have a minute to come up to my office?”

Paul glanced at the unblinking computer screen, beckoning. Hours of work lay ahead of him. “Maybe later this afternoon? Say around two?”

“If it’s not too much of an imposition, how about right now?”

The gentility of the former senator’s voice didn’t fool Paul. That was a summons, pleasant as it was.

“I’m on my way.”

“I’m grateful. See you in a bit.” He rang off.

Paul cradled the receiver, saved his document, and shut his computer down as per the privacy and security protocols his department required. Protocols that he had written himself.