The cabinets hide other secrets. Behind one is a sink; behind another, a closet with freshly laundered shirts and ties hanging in neat rows. There’s an iron, as well, and a padded board folds out to press rumpled suit jackets and smooth wrinkled slacks. A high-end air purification system ensures the office doesn’t smell like a brothel, and an automatic scented spray keeps the place piney-fresh.
These conferences usually last forty-five minutes or so, with the last ten minutes spent washing up and making themselves presentable again. When the office door opens at a little before noon, Bryce is as polished as he was when he went in an hour earlier, and Tim looks unflappable as always. Only the hint of color lingering in Mr. Eckhart’s cheeks suggests anything out of the ordinary.
As the two
