Aundrea did not make the mistake of returning to the office. When necessary, she left files and paperwork by the door with typed reports or instructions attached. She granted him that luxury.
Three months had passed since the “incident” and still, they had not spoken to or seen each other. As it should be, David thought. The office gradually returned to normal. Cases were prepared on time if not earlier. Business in the Factory ( the name by which “trading” was referred to) had even picked up. Today was a rare occasion; David was to personally handle an exchange. Due to his position in the hierarchy, he rarely appeared in person to execute the deals. Obviously the were dangerous. David enjoyed the occasional thrill of attending.
He was to leave early for a routine doctor's appointment; or so he told his staff. Tossing his new cases into a disorganized heap he dug his keys out of his pocket. He picked a silver one while running his thumb across the bottom of his desk. Glancing about the room, he quickly slipped it into an indistinguishable notch on the underside of the desk. It clicked mechanically exposing a digital keypad. David entered the required 4-digit code and a large rectangle began to descend, exposing a drawer. Carefully, he slid his hand into it and retrieved his pistol and droping it secretly into his briefcase. He locked the seemingly ordinary desk and left the office.
When he reached the street, his chauffer was waiting. A man David recognized to be around his age was seated in the back. A bodyguard, he figured, and seated himself in the maroon Mercedes.