Taking the stairs to the fifth floor, Jack ducked into the histology lab in hopes of encouraging Maureen O’Conner, the supervisor, to speed up processing Jefferson’s microscopic sections. Jack had a good working relationship with Maureen, one he didn’t share with John DeVries, but it made no difference. Maureen had also left for the day.

En route to his own office, Jack looked into Laurie’s, expecting at the very least to find out the “when and where” for the evening’s long-awaited dinner party. But Laurie’s office was dark and deserted. To make matters worse, her door was locked. Jack knew that was incontrovertible evidence that she, too, had gone home.

“For crissake!” Jack said out loud. Feeling thwarted in all directions, he grumbled under his breath as he walked the rest of the way down the corridor. For a brief moment he entertained the idea of being unavailable for the rest of the evening so that Laurie would not be able to get ahold of him. But he quickly gave up the idea. It wasn’t his style, and besides, he was genuinely curious.

Jack turned into his own office. At least Chet was still there, busily writing on a yellow legal tablet.

“Ah, the adventurer has returned,” Chet commented as he caught sight of Jack. He put down his pencil. “I guess I can cancel the missing persons report I filed.”

“Very funny,” Jack commented as he hung up his bomber jacket.

“At least you arrived back in one piece,” Chet said. “How was it out there in the field? Any attempts on your life? How many fellow civil service workers did you manage to enrage?”

“I’m in no mood to be teased,” Jack stated. He plopped himself down heavily in his desk chair as if his legs had suddenly given out from under him.

“It doesn’t sound like you enjoyed yourself,” Chet remarked.

“It was a bust,” Jack admitted. “Except for the bike ride.”

“I’m not surprised,” Chet said. “It was a doomed mission from the start. Did you learn anything at all?”

“I learned that it takes a long time to go through a company’s records,” Jack said. “Even a small company. And after all the effort, there was no payoff. In a perverted way I was hoping to find that some of the rug company’s latest shipment of Turkish hides had been sent out so I could rub the information in flinty old Clint Abelard’s face. But no soap. The whole shipment is locked up tight in the Queens warehouse.”

“At least you meant well,” Chet said with a self-satisfied chuckle.

“If you so much as whisper ‘I told you so.’I’m taking you out of my will,” Jack warned.

“I wouldn’t stoop so low as to say I told you so.” Chet laughed.

“Yeah, but I could hear you thinking it,” Jack said.