Corfe arrived thirty minutes after leaving Michelle in Chancey’s diner and coffee shop. He was carrying a tan leather document case and a white plastic bag bearing the name and logo of a local bookstore. The bag looked heavy, stretching the grips as it hung in his hand. He pushed the door open with an elbow and went through. The entrance hall was opulent enough to bespeak success and competence, but not to the point of daunting a potential client contemplating the likely bill. The main furnishings consisted of a redwood office suite and brown brocatel-upholstered chairs, set against a background of beige velveteen overdrapes and a shag carpet with wood inlaid surround. A receptionist faced him across a desk equipped with paper trays, appointment book, computer terminal, and a sign saying that her name was Lisa.
“Good morning,” she greeted, smiling. “What can we do for you?”
“Oh, hi. My name’s Jeffreys. I called fairly late yesterday afternoon. I think it was you that I talked to.”
“Yes, I remember—to see Mr. Garsten. You want to set up a boat business, right?”
“Well, to know a little more about the preliminaries of what would be involved, anyway.” Corfe’s eyes wandered around, absorbing the surroundings. “We made an appointment for eleven-thirty. I guess I’m a little early.”
“Sure, I’ve got you down. Mr. Garsten is running slightly behind time this morning. Would you mind taking a seat in the waiting room? I’ll buzz through that you’re here.”
“That’s fine.”
Lisa showed him across a hall and through a glass-paneled door into a room containing several easy chairs, a couch, and a couple of low tables with stacks of magazines. She invited him to make himself at home and be comfortable. He said he’d prefer to stretch his legs and stand. She said that would be fine, assured him it wouldn’t be too long, and left.
Corfe wandered about the room, pausing near the door to register the layout of the hall and corridor outside, and the doors opening off. The waiting room had a window seat with doors below that might suit his purpose—although there was an external latch that could prove a problem if somebody closed it later before leaving for the weekend. There was a space in a corner behind one of the chairs that was unlikely to be checked; and feeling with a foot told him there was enough clearance underneath the couch. It really was that simple. He could accomplish his task and conceal the mecs right now, spend the rest of the time chatting innocuously, and then leave. The only trouble was, no terminal to the computer was located in the waiting room. That could make things difficult if the only access lay in other rooms that would possibly be locked. Better to keep his options open until he’d had a chance to see more. He went back out into the hall and asked if he could use a restroom while he was waiting. Lisa directed him along a passage leading to the rear of the house.
On the way, he passed two rooms with terminals on the desks inside. Beyond was a photocopying area with shelves of cardboard boxes and stacked paper, and a metal hanging-file cabinet with more boxes piled on top—all of them good possible locations also.
Naturally, the package that Corfe had brought contained the mecs that he and Kevin thought would be the most useful. There was always the chance, however, that as the weekend unfolded they might need to send in additional models to perform some specialized task, or for whatever other reason. A further objective of Corfe’s visit, therefore, was to reconnoiter possible entry points. For obvious reasons, they didn’t want to go disturbing any outside doors or windows.
On the way up to the house, he had noticed a grille low down on the side wall, that looked like a vent to the basement; that was a possibility. Now, in a room at the rear outside the restrooms that looked as if it might have once been a laundry, he found a blanked-off pipe that could have been a dryer vent.
On his way back to the front of the house he deliberately took a wrong turn and discovered a coffee lounge with a wood stove and a pipe going up through the ceiling. If all else failed, there would be a chimney somewhere outside that a can-size mec would surely be able to reach without too much difficulty. Before he could investigate further, a clerk appeared from a filing room next door and directed him back to reception. Lisa was waiting in the front hall to say that “Mr. Garsten will see you now.”