“I think you’re right. This place is just a cover. I think like you do, there must be another apartment inside this complex where they really live.”

Myra looked at her watch. They both ran to the door and waited for the power to go back out. Just as Myra turned the knob on the door, the apartment went dark. Like the conspirators they were, they raced to the end of the hall. The only light to be seen was the red EXIT sign over the stairwell door. Inside the dark stairwell, they waited for the power to come back on before they made their wild scramble back to the eighth floor and their apartment.

Inside, both women collapsed onto a soft, nubby off-white sofa.

Her voice sounding jittery, Annie said, “That was fun, wasn’t it, Myra?”

“About as much fun as a root canal. Do you realize you could live in a place like this for years and never see or know your neighbors?”

The two women waited through three more power surges, darkness, then light before Annie called Charles to report in. “There has to be another apartment here. All your people saw was Bonnie and Clyde exiting and entering the building. They didn’t see which apartment they came out of. Myra and I are tired, so we’re going to bed. That means we will not be checking in during the next eight hours.” Annie rolled her eyes at Myra, and so it was obvious Charles was berating her for something.

In a voice loud enough for Charles to hear, Myra said, “Tell him to sit on it!”

Annie immediately broke the connection.

“I think the correct expression according to Kathryn would be, ‘sit on a pointy stick and twirl around,’ or, in other words, ‘perch, pivot, and rotate.’”

“Whatever,” Myra drawled as she got up and made her way toward the bedroom. “Tomorrow is another day, Annie. Do you have a good feeling about any of this?”

“Actually, I was just thinking about Lizzie and wondering if she’s going to take the job as chief White House counsel. But to answer your question, I’m thinking positive thoughts. It’s going to depend on all of us working together. Think positive, dear.”

“I don’t think she’s going to take the job. She has a new husband, and with all the work we’ve been sending her way, I just don’t see her leaving the work she loves behind, however prestigious the new position is. Lizzie has her own reputation and prestige. She doesn’t need the White House,” Myra called over her shoulder as she yawned elaborately.