The block-long building was L-shaped, so the alley behind it was effectively off-set from both ends to go around the building. A security camera pointed down the alley from each end, but nothing covered the sidestep in the middle. And in the middle of that sidestep was an access door to the boiler room. There was supposed to be an alarm which sounded if the panic bar was pressed, but there was a “service switch” above the opening so the door could be opened to load or unload supplies for the boiler room. Even worse, if you opened the door with a key from the outside, it didn’t trigger any alarms or notifications at all on the main security desk.“Day after tomorrow,” I said, “you are going to go back to your boss and report a serious security deficiency in this building.” I smiled and added, “You might even get a commendation in your file for your due diligence.”“Thank you...” he stuttered.“That’s my name on the card,” I said. “I’m known as W. What’s your name?”“Harold Simmons,” he. I'd kept my cell. Not so I could catch her calls, but because it was inconvenient for me to change numbers. My job as a sales rep for Claremont Inc., a dry goods wholesale house, required that I be reachable by my customers—the job was too good to be screwing with my phone number.She did try to reach me, seemingly almost every hour on the hour since she'd gotten back. I hadn't taken her calls. But, she finally did catch up with me—in the field—in the foyer of one of my best customer's office. It was either talk to her or risk a scene.As I announced myself to the receptionist, she looked past me to someone sitting with her back against the wall."Hello, Clyde," she said."Verna!" I said."Yeah, can't fool you," she said, mimicking me. "We need to talk. Here or lunch, you choice," she said. It was obviously a threat."The IHOP on 3rd in an hour," I said. She smiled at me, picked up her wrap, and left. She hadn't uttered another word.I saw her in a booth against the far wall.I took the seat.
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