CHAPTER IIThe magnificence of the corridor which led to the Bureau Chiefs office never failed to awe Jim Lawrence. There was something hushed and resplendent about it, like a big, Fifth Avenue jewelry store after closing hours, with the clerks tabulating the day’s receipts, and the diamonds sparkling under glass.
It was ridiculous for Jim Lawrence to feel apprehensive, for his job even permitted him to feel important. He was one of the ablest political correspondents in Washington. He could walk right up and talk to the President, if he felt so inclined—just a simple phone call would get him past the Secret Service barriers. Yet—
Jim Lawrence was remembering: nothing on Earth was securely entrenched, solid, massive, or ever would be again. He was no longer Jim Lawrence, expert news gathe
