10When the elevator doors opened on the embassy’s top floor, I found myself facing Gerry. As I stepped off the car, he brushed past me into it, his hand already extended toward the panel of buttons.
“What’s up?” I asked.
He blinked, as if he’d been too preoccupied to recognize me before he heard my voice. When he spoke it was in the genial-but-harassed tone he often took with me. I heard no hint of our earlier friction. “Markham’s waiting for you.” He pressed the G button. “Can’t talk now. I’ve got to make some calls. Check my notes, it’s all there.” The door slid shut.
I was relieved that Gerry was no longer acting as if I’d betrayed him. I wondered who he was rushing to consult. But I wasn’t going to linger in our tiny office, studying the files. I didn’t want to be trapped in that cr
