Still, as Linda gazed at the flowers and searched for a card that was not there, Raymond had a chance to examine the space first hand. The two offices on the other side of the main room. The two men working at their desks separated by plate glass walls. Raymond looked at the tall one in the corner office and could tell that he was only pretending to work. He was sneaking peeks at Linda with the flowers. The other one at the far end, the fat one wearing glasses, had a smile on his face and seemed unconcerned.

The smell of the kid’s shit was getting to him. He glanced at the lighted window on the second floor, took a last sip of coffee and placed the mug in the cup holder. Reaching beneath the seat, he fished out the two guns he would need for the night and made sure that the Beretta was primed and ready. Then he switched off the tape, returned the cassette to its vinyl case and got out of the car.

He took a deep breath of fresh air, glancing at the dead burglar in the backseat before closing the door.

“Wait here,” he told the kid.

A smile crossed his lips. His plan was ridiculously easy.

As he reached the front door, he checked his latex gloves for breaks and had a look at the lock. It was a Gibson Security deadbolt. He was familiar with the model and pulled out his tools from a small case he kept in his breast pocket. Within half a minute, he heard the telltale click, swung the door open and entered the building smooth as a shadow.

The lobby and stairs were lighted. Raymond closed the door and turned the deadbolt, returning his picks to their case and pulling out the Beretta. Then he switched off the lights and started upstairs, his agile body rising silently through the darkness. He had counted the steps while delivering those flowers. Twenty-three, and not one of them creaked if you kept your footing to the far right side.

The door at the top of the stairs stood open and he could hear the sound of someone talking inside. Raymond had counted on him being alone. Keeping to the darkness, he scanned the office with mild concern. The entrance gave way to a large common room with desks and worktables. The offices of the partners lined both sides of the space, separated by glass partitions. Although the computers were left on and provided a dim glow, the only light burning on the entire floor came from the office on the right at the very end.

Tightening his grip on the gun, Raymond stepped inside the room and began inching his way past the worktables until his view cleared. The man was sitting with his back to the door. And he was alone, talking to someone on the phone with his feet propped on the desk. Smoking and drinking coffee, he looked like a slob from the word go. He was saying something about the changes they made and he sounded upset. The changes they made were good, he said. Their message was right, but they still needed more money to get the new TV ad on the air.

Raymond moved closer, adjusting his position so that he would have a clean shot through the doorway without hitting all that glass. The guy looked like a real talker. Raymond would have to wait until the fat man hung up the phone.

Finding a place behind a worktable, he sat on the floor and glanced at a computer monitor.