TOTAL CONTROL By: David Baldacci

She removed the plastic card from the slot. Before grasping the

doorknob, she pulled a handkerchief from her purse and wound it around

her hand to avoid leaving any prints. Acting the part of an intruder

both exhilarated and terrified her. She felt her pulse hammering in her

ears. She entered the office and quickly closed the door behind her.

The flashlight she pulled from her bag was small but effective.

Before turning it on, she checked to make sure that the window blinds

were all the way down and completely closed. The thin light swept

around the office. She had been here before, several times in fact, to

have lunch with Jason, although they had not stayed long in his office.

Usually it was just to snatch a quick kiss behind closed doors. Her

light skipped to bookcases filled with technical tomes far beyond her

realm of comprehension. The technocrats really did rule, she mused for

a moment, if only because they were the only ones who could fix the damn

things when they broke down.

The light fell upon the computer and she quickly went over to it.

It was off and the presence of another keypad made her decide not to

push her luck in attempting to turn it on. She would be hopelessly lost

even if she was fortunate enough to log on, since she had no idea what

she was looking for or where to search. It wasn’t worth the risk. She

noted the microphone attached to the computer monitor.

A number of desk drawers were locked. The few that weren’t revealed

nothing of interest.

In stark contrast to her office at the law firm, there were no diplomas

on the walls or other personal touches in her husband’s office.

She did note, with a glistening eye, that a photo of Jason and his

family held a prominent position on his desk. As she looked around the

office, it suddenly occurred to her that she had taken enormous risks

for nothing. She whirled around at a sudden noise from somewhere within

the office space. The flashlight collided with the microphone and, to

her horror, the slender device bent in half. She stood completely

still, listening for the sound to be repeated. Finally, after a minute

of sheer terror, she turned her attention back to the slender

microphone. She spent a couple of minutes trying to return it to its

original shape without much success. Finally she gave up, wiped her

prints from it, retreated to the door and turned off her flashlight.

Using the handkerchief to grip the doorknob, she listened at the door

for a moment and then exited the office.

She heard the footsteps coming as soon as she reached Kay’s desk.

For an instant she thought it might be Charlie, except there was no

jangling of keys against his gun belt. She looked quickly around to

determine which way the sounds were coming from. Clearly the person was

back farther in the office. She slipped across to Kay’s cubicle and

knelt down behind her desk. Trying to breathe as quietly as possible,

she waited as the footsteps came closer. Then’ they stopped.

A minute went by and they did not resume. Then Sidney heard a slight

clicking sound, as though something was being rotated back and forth,

but only in a limited radius.

Unable to stop herself, she cautiously peered around the corner of Kay’s

cubicle. A man’s back was barely six feet away from her. He was slowly

turning the doorknob on Jason’s office door back and forth. The man

took a card out of his shirt pocket and started to insert it into the

slot. Then he hesitated over the keypad as if deciding whether to

chance it or not. Finally his courage failed and he put the card back

in his pocket and turned away.

Quentin Rowe did not look pleased. He retreated down the hallway the

way he had come.

Sidney slipped out from her hiding place and walked in the opposite

direction. She was moving rapidly when she rounded the corner and her

purse hit the wall. The noise, while not loud, seemed to echo like an

explosion through the quiet hallways. Her breath caught in her throat

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