We head past reception where a couple of blue-suited security men are standing guard over a stapler and six paper clips, then back along the corridor past Iris's corner office, then round the bend to—

"Fuck," I say, unable to contain myself. My office door is closed. But I can see the interior, because there's a gigantic hole in the door, as if someone hit it with a wrecking ball. (Except a wrecking ball would leave rough jagged edges of splintered wood, while the rim of this particular hole looks oddly melted.) The interior isn't much better; an avalanche of paper and scraps of broken metal are strewn across half an overturned desk. A thin blue glow clings patchily to some of the wreckage, fading slowly even as I watch. "What happened?"

"Am hoping you tell us." It's Boris, bags under his eyes and an expression as dark as midnight on the winter solstice. When did he get back? Wasn't he doing something overseas connected with BLOODY BARON . . . ?

"What have you done, Bob?" Jo grabs my left elbow. "First a civilian FATACC, now this. What are you into?"

I blink stupidly at the destruction. "My secure document safe, is it . . . ?"

She shakes her head. "We won't know until we go inside. It's still active." I feel a thin prickling on the back of my neck. Demonic intruders have been at work, summoned to retrieve something. Angleton was right, I realize.

"What did you have in your safe?"

"I'm not sure you're cleared—"

Boris clears his throat. "Is cleared, Bob. I will clear her. What was in safe? What attracted attention of burglars in night?"

I squint through the hole in the door. "I had documents relating to several codeword projects in there," I say. "The stacks can probably reconstruct my withdrawal record, and once it's safe to go in there we can work out what is missing."

"Bob, you went to the archives in person yesterday." Jo tightens her grip on my elbow, painfully tight. "What did you withdraw most recently? Tell us!"

Truth and consequences time. "I asked for a copy of the Fuller Memorandum," I tell her, which is entirely true and correct: "I was following up something Angleton told me to do a while ago." Which is also entirely correct, and the most misleading thing I've said in front of witnesses all year.

"Fuller Memo—" I see a flicker of recognition on Boris's face. "Tell me, when you go home last night, is Fuller Memorandum in safe?"

I nod. I don't trust my tongue at this point because, as the man who used to be president said, it all depends on what you mean by the word "is."

Jo stares at Boris. "What classification level are we talking about?" she asks.

Boris doesn't answer at once. He's staring at me, and if looks could kill, I'd be a tiny pile of ash right now. "Does Angleton say you are to the memorandum read?" he asks.