Tom Barnett was up early for a Saturday. He tried to keep his mind off work by taking a quick jog down to the Palace of Fine Arts and back but it was no use. He had to get his feature article for next Sunday's paper done by Tuesday morning's deadline so it could be printed Wednesday with the insert sections. Tom doesn't like going down to the last minute with no margin for error so he drove in determined to get the piece done by noon. He was at his desk by 6:30 and about an hour later the phone rang. The security officer on duty said a man was at the front door. He claimed to have urgent business with Tom Barnett but wouldn't give his name. Tom was used to anonymous contacts. Many of his sources required it due to the risk they run in talking to the press. But knocking on the front door of the closed office building was new. Tom said he'd be right down.

They met at the front door where Tom took charge of his visitor from the security guard. The empty lobby would offer enough privacy and the two sat down together in the far corner of the large room. The middle-aged and balding caller seemed the perfect gentleman in his dress and his mannerisms. Waiting to be sure the guard had gone back to his duties before speaking, Tom's guest began by thanking him for agreeing to meet. Tom wanted to move things along. He had work to do. Their conversation would not be a long one.



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