I was more than a little pleased with the amount of background information Allison had acquired in a short two days at DSS.

It wasn't a matter of concrete evidence - she didn't have anything pointing to a specific person as a culprit. But Allison was able to provide a fine thumbnail sketch of most of the office workers at DSS ... and most of the senior staff as well.

Her report included several office romances - including one lesbian couple and a gay triangle, none of whom were treated any differently by the staff as a whole - a point which spoke well for DSS, not all corporations were as open minded, no matter what they presented as a public facade.

"It's kind of funny," Allison confided, "but I got a lot of this from one of the older clerks in Admin ... after she made a casual pass at me. When I turned her down, she invited me to lunch anyway ... and made a point of tell me who was available and which way ... and who to watch out for."

And a lot of other stuff as well, it appeared.

Whether knowing that the Chairman of the Board was guilty of betting on boat races or that a balding father of five was also a weekend cross-dresser who did a torch act at one of the local night spots would have any solid bearing on the our investigation was problematic ... but it's always a toss up which information will prove valuable until a case is wrapped up.

There was also gossip about resignations - except that accounts differed on whose - and there were rumors about client complaints - equally unsubtantiated.

In any case, we listened ... and asked questions ...

And Fred and Nan were able to offer amplifying collaborations from conversations on the tapes.

Still, after several hours talk, it was all still background - nothing solid.

About the only event of substance for the evening was a stack of dishes ... and a much less than full bottle of JD Black.

* * *

After everyone else left - Jane had an early call as Madame Lu; Fred, Nan and Nasha had spent a long day listening to tapes; Ted needed to collect the latest dump from DSS ... and Allison had elected to join him ... for a private conference - I shifted myself from the wheelchair to the office chair and sorted through the pink slips remaining on my desk, trying to decide what was important and what wasn't.

Among other things, what with everything else going on, we'd completely missed the evening news - but, I decided, I could still catch the ten o'clock.

There were a few calls I still hadn't returned - aside from the Treasury Department and FBI - but two of them were still east-coast and one was Colorado and it was simply too late in the day to expect to reach anyone ... unless I called them at home and it wasn't that important. Tomorrow would have to do.

I was still wondering when I could manage a fitting for a new leg when the cell phone buzzed. The office phones had all been redirected to our answering service - and I really needed to check messages - but the cellular was direct ... for emergencies.

I flipped the phone open. "Mac here," I reported.

"Are you all right? Do you know how worried Mary and I are about you?" It was Helen.

"I'm fine," I protested. "What ... Look, I don't know what the news is saying - I haven't seen any. Where are you?"

"We're over at Magic Carpets, where else? Mr. Parajan left a note, said to call him. He told us you were taken away in an ambulance. Said the police and the FBI and who knows who else were fighting over you and that your leg had burned up and ... Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine," I protested, ignoring the strapped ribs and the fact that my hand was throbbing again. And the sleep I hadn't had. "Our friendly rug merchant makes too much of things. Honestly."

"I don't believe you," Helen responded. "When we finish up here, I'm coming by to see you."

"I may be asleep by then," I protested honestly - I really was tired.

"Then leave a key under the door mat ... Oh, I'm sorry," she backtracked. "That's not what ... I mean I'm worried about you. Look, I can get away early and come over. Would that be okay? I mean, if you'd really rather I didn't ..."

What the hell, it's nice having someone worry about you ... and I liked Helen a lot. For that matter, sleep wasn't quite as important as all that ... and I did want to catch the ten o'clock news.

Of course, the strapped ribs were still a consideration ... but, if she promised to be gentle with me ...

"Come on over," I laughed. "I'll whip up an omelet or something." And, in the mean time, I'd take a long shower ... and change gel packs.

Besides, I was curious how things were at Viscount ...

Hey, we all make excuses for doing the things we want to do anyway ... don't we?

* * *

The ten o'clock news was fascinating ... I made a note to call the stations and order copies of their broadcasts. It was also wonderful publicity - the Homeless Detective Agency was featured prominently and, in the videos, looked very professional. Even Ted, hovering at my shoulder, looked like a mature professional. The fact that I was seated didn't detract at all.

On one channel - I was watching two stations using one of the video monitors as a second receiver - the main story was followed by a brief review of prosthetics. Quite a credible job considering how little time they'd had to put the story together.

On a more personal note, Viscount was still in business ... but they also had an opening for a new shift manager ...

And Helen was gentle with me ... once she got over the bruises and bandages ...

And I slept very late the next morning ... which I deserved royally.

The omelet waited until breakfast ...

* * *

WEDNESDAY MORNING

It was ten o'clock when I arrived at the office - which meant it was already afternoon on the East Coast ... and lunch time in Denver.

Jane wasn't in yet ... which was fine - we were all keeping irregular hours - it was a company standard ... but Ted was closeted with Nan and Fred and the latest set of tapes while little Nasha was quietly working on her bottle. I listened for a moment, then left them to their concerns.

The conference room had been cleaned of the dirty dishes, empty cups and glasses and the rest of the remnants of last night's dinner. The bare conference table lined with ranked chairs looked very professional but also very barren. I poured a cup of coffee and found real cream in the fridge - another nice touch.

Pictures, I decided. The walls needed something. Too plain, too empty. Later would be time enough for something, I decided, then went on to my office, filled with the resolute intention of catching up on the pink slips still amusing themselves on my desk.

I started with Dan Winkerson at the New York offices of Kempler Mutual, hoping - however unlikely it was as long as the market was open - that he hadn't left early for the day.

He hadn't.

"Mac!" Dan tended to boom on the phone. "Caught you on CNN this morning! You're looking great! How's the PI business? Sounds like you managed a major bust!"

I answered Dan's questions - as best I could - as briefly as I could, trying to get back to the main topic.

When we did, Dan's report wasn't long on surprises ... only on details ...

Yes, DSS's stocks had been trading heavily on the penny markets. Yes, someone was selling short positions. But, yes, someone else - apparently - was buying heavily. And DSS's share prices were dropping - not remarkably but definitely slipping.

Unfortunately, no, he didn't know who either party was. "Shell corporations, most likely," Dan boomed. "Nothing more than a box number and an account. May both be the same - hard to say - but the shorts and buys are separate on the surface! Something here we should be looking at?"

It wouldn't hurt, I assured him and, as soon as I knew something, I drop him a call ... or an email.

Karen Pemberton in Boston reported essentially the same.

And Jamie Welfram in Denver - I caught her coming back from lunch and spent a few minutes listening to her latest string of 'lightbulb' jokes - confirmed Dan and Karen's reports.

It was a lot ... but it also wasn't much.

On the other hand, "How many Buddhist monks does it take to change a lightbulb? - None, they just contemplate the darkness." was worth the call.

I repaid the favor with the one about the Buddhist who wandered into a pizza parlor and requested, "Make me one with everything."

I was listening to young Miss Parker in the front office and thinking it was a weird way to run a detective agency when Ms Zappa called.

"Sorry to take so long responding," Ms Zappa apologized, "but we're having some problems here. The bust last week stirred things up and, between the Board of Directors and our clients, I feel like I was practicing shuttle diplomacy."

What she wasn't saying was did I have anything for her. Definitely a diplomat.

"Soon," I offered a reassuring answer for the unvoiced question. "I suspect things will come to a head very soon. As soon as there are any major developments, I'll call direct - as arranged. And you'll keep me posted on your end?" - a reminder that she should have notified me about the current developments. Not that I was surprised by the omission - she'd probably been as busy as I had been ... and the surprise, if anything, was that she hadn't been on the phone constantly demanding action.

Overall, Ms Zappa was a very acceptable client.

With a little prodding, I persuaded Irene to dump the dirt. In a sense, she really didn't need a lot of prodding ... as her investigator, I was also in the position of being a privileged confidant - kind of like being a father confessor.

Rumors which Allison hadn't recounted - it seemed management did have a few secrets which the junior staff weren't privy to - linked to what I'd learned from several local and long distance conversations. Not only were stock prices dropping but several stockholders had received anonymous tips that the company was in trouble.

Nothing specific - or provable - had been mentioned but, together with last week's bust of the North Woods guards, it was enough to cause a major furor and to result in a hasty - but unproductive - board meeting.

On a more concrete foundation, Ms Zappa did confirm the rumors about resignations. "I turned them down, of course," she reported. "Even though, under other circumstances, I might have welcomed one or two. No," she corrected herself, "that's not right. I didn't turn them down. They're still on my desk - pending review. I asked each of them for two weeks reconsideration."

"Names?" I prompted. "And reasons?"

"Is that necessary ..." she protested, then admitted, "Very well, I suppose it is. All right, Vera Mills in Accounting - I don't know if you met her or not" - I hadn't - "but she simply stated 'personal reasons'. I asked for details but didn't get anything. I thought ... maybe ... she's gay and I thought maybe she'd had a fight with her lover - they both work for DSS ... Anyway, no further reason and I haven't observed any personal frictions."

"Ms Mills' significant other?" I prompted. "Any friction there?" I knew from Allison's report who the SO was but I didn't mention that Ms Zappa had omitted the name.

"No," she admitted. "I haven't seen any ... they still seem to get along just fine."

"Who else?"

"Tami Anderson, she's interested in real estate, said she was thinking of becoming a realtor full time. She is licensed but I think it was mostly a matter of wilting under stress. Naturally, when something like this happens, Marketing catches a lot of the flack. It's also a lousy time to try to replace our head of Marketing."

I nodded sympathetically, then realized she couldn't see me - there were video phones on the market but that wasn't a toy I lusted for. "The third?"

"Mitch Jorgenson, Training," she admitted. "Personal reasons. I believe he thinks he's responsible for what's been happening. I'd rather not lose him though."

Meaning Vera Mills and Tami Anderson were the two potentially replaceable employees? But investigators aren't paid for being reticent so I prompted. "But you would consider accepting Ms Mills resignation?"

"Vera?" Irene sounded surprised. "Only if she insisted. I mean, she does a good job and I thought she was happy with us. I don't know what her reasons are - not really - but ... well, I can hardly demand that she stay if she really wants to leave."

"You suggested that you might have welcomed one or two - if not Ms Mills and Mr. Jorgenson, whose aside from Ms Anderson? And why Ms Anderson's?"

"Oh," a moment's pause. "I suppose I did. I guess I was thinking of someone else. No, I like Vera, she's a hard worker. Ms Anderson? Well, I suppose so, it's tempting. Not that there's anything really wrong just that she's more interested in real estate than security. I'll talk it over with her later - if she really means it, I'll accept her resignation."

"And?"

"And who was I thinking of?" Ms Zappa hesitated, then, "Do you really need to know?"

"I think so," I confirmed. "Of course, if this is purely a personal matter ..." I offered her a diplomatic out.

"It is," she grabbed the olive branch, then admitted, "And it isn't. Very well, Thea Chin, Personnel. I suppose it isn't really personal ... It's just that she seems to have thought she should have had the CEO's job when it came vacant. And there's been friction since then. Nothing major, really, but ..."

"But you'd accept her resignation if offered?"

"I suppose I would," she conceded. "It would make things easier."

"And if I asked you for a realistic assessment of her qualifications for the CEO position?"

There was a long pause from the other end. Then, "She's good at most things but ... she's opinionated, lacks diplomatic skills, doesn't have the experience for the position ... maybe in ten years, she might be qualified for a CEO slot. She really needs experience in a couple more companies first - you know, a diversity of employment. No, I wasn't consulted but, in a similar position, I'd have struck her from the list immediately. Too shallow, I guess, would be a good way to put it."

"Does it bother you that she's gay?" I dropped a small brick in the conversation and heard a short, sharp breath from the other end of the line.

"Was that a guess?" Irene asked. "Or was there something in her manner when you met?"

"Neither," I countered. "Information received. Does it bother you?"

"No, that doesn't." Ms Zappa denied calmly. "My dislike is based solely on professional grounds. A shop like DSS doesn't need people playing office politics - certainly not upper management. And especially not at a time like this.

"A good CEO, Mr. MacPherson, has to have a healthy ego and a lot of drive. However, when that ego exerts itself at the expense of others ... or at the expense of the company ... then the CEO isn't good. At the present, Ms Chin's drive is very strong but very self-centered. In certain respects, I believe she has already risen above her present level of competency. That is the basis for my dislike.

"You said: 'information received'" she turned the statement into a query. "Should I ask?"

"You can ask," I admitted. "But the details are reserved. If it will help - for your ears only - a Ms Hoyt who recently joined your firm is an undercover operative. She's also a perfectly legitimate MBA."

"I see," Irene's voice softened. "A very attractive young lady and excellent credentials. I was pleased to see her apply. We need people like her. I suppose this means that she's ours only temporarily?"

"I trust so," I replied. "But, please do not treat her any differently than any other employee."

"And don't mention her involvement to anyone." Ms Zappa filled in the blank.

"If it would help," I offered, "you can assure your board members that the HD agency has a variety of sources gathering information both inside and outside DSS. I would prefer, for obvious reasons, that you not be too specific."

"Thank you," she was grateful. "That will help. No details," she assured me, then asked, "I suppose later ...?"

"Later, yes," I agreed. "We can go over everything. And I'll have a few suggestions on improving your security ... in several respects."

"Thank you," she repeated. "At least that gives me a bone for ... I'm sorry," she changed the subject, "I saw you on the news last night. Obviously, you're all right but I hear you've had a rather rough time the last few days."

"Goes with the territory," I admitted. "But, happily, it doesn't happen often. And," I offered reassurances, "it hasn't interfered with your matter."

"I had assumed not," she agreed. "But, if there's anything I can do to help ..."

I thanked her for her offer and assured her that I'd call as soon as I had anything ... or if I needed anything.

I was considering whether to call the FBI or the Treasury Department - both had left new messages with the answering services - when Jane tapped lightly on my open door. She was smiling happily.

"You're looking pleased," I gestured for her to enter. "What's up?"

"Do you like your fish fried or broiled?" she set her cup on the desk before taking a chair.

"Depends, what kind of fish?"

"Well ... might be a sprat," she admitted. "But not, I think, a red herring. At any rate, it's fresh and hooked. How would you like it?"

"Sashimi?" I suggested, then continued, "Any way you like really."

"Well," she settled herself, deciding where to begin, "It's Dan's catch really," - meaning Daniel Herrick, the sometimes actor, sometimes radio personality and now undercover security guard - "he 'accidentally' flashed a bracelet and a couple of rings in front of one of the senior guards last night - no, nothing stolen, costume jewelry really - supplied by your friend Xiao Dong" - meaning Sheldon, that was his real name even though I was surprised to hear her pronounce it correctly - "Anyway," Jane continued, "the senior guard gave him kind of a rough time but there weren't any tags or anything to show where it came from and he just kept insisting it was family - that he was considering selling them - so the guy finally gave up questioning him." She paused to sip her coffee.

I waited - there was more, I was sure.

"Anyhow," she resumed, "when he came by the warehouse this morning, he gave me the high sign as he came in. Bill Williams and Vera Chambers were already there - we were having coffee - so we started arguing about prices for computers and stereos, ignoring Dan who was leaning on the jewelry case.

"Then a couple of strangers came in," she paused for effect. "At least, they were strangers to me. Dan started to demand to know if they'd followed him and what was going on and blustering. Bill and Vera shut up and edged toward the door and Karen and Blayliss" - meaning her bodyguard weight-lifters - "kind of surrounded the intruders, hefting those small barbells - the ones that fit your fist.

"So, I stepped behind the counter and, in my best Madame Lu voice, informed them that we weren't open to the public but was there something I could do to help them." She stopped, then invited: "We've got the whole thing on tape if you want to see it."

I love to, I agreed, but - first - maybe she could give me a sysnopsis.

"Well," Jane agreed, "they were pretty blunt about it - they wanted to know what kind of a deal I could give them on bulk. None of this penny-ante stuff - one of them jerked a thumb at Dan at that point - they said. They wanted to talk about real merchandice - van load quantities.

"So, I did like you said. I wanted to know how hot - where it was nicked - what their supply was - and so forth. They said ten to twenty van loads a week for the right price and demanded thirty percent - I offered them five. Then they called me a crook.

"So, five, I insisted but admitted that if it was good and regular, then maybe we could talk seven or seven five. So they said they might consider twenty-five. Anyhow, we haggled for a while - then I agreed to look at a sample load and said I preferred high-tech rather than bulk. And they said they'd deliver a sample tonight ... if I'd go ten on the samples. We're talking about two or three grand - maybe more. Is that okay?" she concluded, doubtfully.

"Okay?" I grinned. "That's wonderful! Not our big fish but definitely not sprat. Look, here's how I want you to play it ..."

* * *

Finally, I let Jane go back to her desk to handle a few more mundane matters. Last night's publicity was bringing calls from host of potential clients and they all needed to be answered if only to politely turn them down or to refer them elsewhere. I'd given Jane an outline of what types we would and would not handle.

Absolutely no domestic cases was at the top of the list - and these would also be the bulk of the phoned inquiries. Domestics - usually divorce or wanting a club to hold over hubby or honey's heads - were almost always impulse inquiries and I want nothing to do with them ... for any reason.

Missing persons were a different matter - those were acceptable when we had time and run-away cases had always been a staple.

Burglary - except for commercial / industrial - were another decline politely category. For the most part, they were impossible to resolve and were better handled by the police who had the resources and man power. Of course, there were occasional exceptions - high ticket or unusual circumstances - but most weren't worth the fees even if we could do something.

And, of course, there'd always be crank calls. These were sometimes amusing but mostly just boring or annoying. I had no interest in trying to prove anyone's claims to be the great-great grandson of the lost Dauphin or the hereditary ruler of Bohemia or the lost heir to the Vanderbilt fortunes any more than I was interested in proving that they'd been abducted by UFO ... and certainly not on spec.

So, I'd let Jane weed out the worst of the lot. She'd already proved her general competence and I had other jobs to do.

In the end, I left messages for both Treasury and the Bureau - saying that I was cooperating with the SFPD and local authorities and that they should make their request appropriately - and went on to more important matters.

The first was a message for Ms Zappa at DSS, asking her to call about the cheeses she'd ordered. The name I left was Holland Imports - which didn't exist - and a phone number - mine - which did.

The second was to Horrible Herb - who wasn't in yet, he worked the late shift by preference - so I left a brief message on his voice mail. "If you'd like a second feather," I addressed the recording, "give me a call - but no rush. Later." I hung up.

* * *

Lunch was sandwiches - delivered. For everyone.

"I've got something on the Gertzer dame," Ted mumbled around a mouthful of ham, peppers and everything. "But you aren't going to like it."

"Yellow journal?" I made the obvious guess.

"Stringer for the Inquirer," Ted confirmed. "They say she does a lot of angel stories."

"Great," I groaned. Some kinds of publicity I could do without. The Inquirer was one of them.

"Cheer up," Ted paused between bites. "They'll probably get the name wrong anyway."

It wasn't much consolation.

"Uh, Mr. MacPherson?" Nan Parks was hesitant.

"Go ahead," I invited.

"We've been listening to a lot of stuff on these tapes but we aren't finding much. I mean, don't get me wrong - Fred and I really appreciate the job - but aren't you wasting your money?"

"Don't worry," I reassured them both. "Even if you come up empty, that's still information. Think of it as mining for diamonds - it only takes one good one to pay off. Oh, by the way," I remember something from last night, "maybe one of you should take a hour's break and run over to a place called Viscount Services. I understand they're in the market for an office manager - nights but it's something. The tapes can wait for a little while if you'd like to try."

I added a few details - what little background I knew, then let the Parks huddle and discuss it.

In the intervening silence, I suggested that we needed something to brighten up the walls, then - after another bite of sandwich - congratulated Jane on her morning's catch. Even it if was only Ted and I - and the Parks - Jane had the courtesy to color slightly.

Departmental praise - as Kipling observed - could be a very heady intoxicant.

"You might," I suggested to Fred and Nan, "be particularly attentive for any references to fencing, to Madame Lu, or to moving quantities of merchandise. Especially," I added, "on tomorrow's tapes."

"Uh," Fred glanced at his wife. "We could work on them this evening if you like. I mean, we don't have anything important scheduled and ..."

"They're about finished with the current material," Ted interrupted. "I could go over and get an early dump with this morning's traffic. Then get the usual this evening at seven."

"While he's doing that," Nan suggested. "Fred and I could catch a bus and go by Viscount to apply. Then we could get right on the tapes when Ted returns."

"It's your schedule," I agreed. "Work it however you like, Ted. But ... Fred, Nan ... don't waste time with the bus - that could take all afternoon - go ahead and call a cab. Company expense."

I wasn't just being generous - the earlier information was received the better. And, if they were willing to work through the evening, I didn't see any point in their wasting the afternoon waiting for busses.

My cell phone interrupted further discussions - it was Ms Zappa responding to the cheese message.

I asked her to hold for a moment, then wheeled myself out on the balcony where we could talk quietly. The morning's fog had burned off and the bay was sparkling in the sunshine. Made me wish I was out on it on a sailboard - taped ribs and all.

"Good afternoon," I addressed the phone. "I think we have some good news for you - we have a fish on the line."

"I see," she was calm. "Then things are progressing?"

"Very nicely," I confirmed. "But that wasn't why I called."

"I assumed not," Irene was patient. "You did say cheese."

"That's right. It's a matter of seed money. Our trap needs bait and we're expecting a van load - up to fifty thousand worth of merchandise. They expect two or three thousand minimum. But I don't believe they'll accept checks."

"I'll have a messenger deliver ten in cash, if that will be satisfactory?" Ms Zappa was decisive as well as cooperative. "Before four?"

"Twenties, fifties and hundreds," I agreed. "Quite satisfactory. New bills are fine, sequential numbers are no problem."

"Anything else?"

"If you'd like a report ..." I offered.

"I would," she agreed. "But not today. Sorry," her voice relaxed, "it's still shuttle time. Would tomorrow be acceptable?"

"Tomorrow," I considered, "should be fine. By then I'll have more information for you anyway. Dinner?"

"Afternoon would be better," she disagreed. "About three or three-thirty? Your offices? I have an engagement in the evening. More diplomacy."

That was fine, I agreed, and gave her the new address, reminding myself to tell Jane to enter it in the schedule. And to tell her that the money would be delivered.

I still had a half-sandwich waiting.

* * *

"Maybe we've got one pebble for you," Nan offered after I'd finished filling Jane in on the schedule and delivery. "There's a conversation on the tape with a stock broker that's kind of funny. Fred's searching the tape position for it now."

"Funny how?" I asked.

"Funny because the person calling was using a different name - I mean, the name wasn't anyone at DSS but the voice matched the person who's office the call was made from. Would that be something?"

"Could be indeed. Let's listen to it."

* * *

It wasn't the Kolinoor diamond but it was definitely a gemstone.

The call had been placed - using a telephone credit card so it wouldn't show on DSS's records - to a number in Houston, Texas. It had been answered by an investment counselor - but not by a receptionist or secretary. That suggested that she could be anything from a fancy downtown office to a back-room telephone in the 'burbs. Considering the shake-ups in Houston over the past decade - after the oil boom had busted - a lot of legitimate firms had moved to cheaper quarters wherever they were found.

And it might be one reason why an out-of-town broker was the called party. A leaner, hungrier broker might not ask as many questions as a larger shop. Or there could even be a personal connection. Except, if so, why use a phony name?

In any case, the conversation was brief but informative. The Houston end was demanding additional funds to cover margin purchases ... and the San Francisco speaker was reassuring Houston that the funds would be transferred - via an Antilles bank - within two days.

The amount wasn't immense - fifty thousand demanded, seventy-five promised - the difference to cover additional purchases - but it was substantial.

And the stock was Diversified Security Services.

Definitely a gemstone.

It also confirmed a steady demand for cash ... cash which was being acquired through channels that did double duty in helping to drive the share prices down. A very nicely interlocked fiddle indeed.

"Call a cab," I grinned, "and get over there. You're on a winning streak." I even suggested they could leave Nasha - who was enjoying an after-lunch nap - where she was.

When Ted returned, I wanted a duplicate of the tape. In the mean time, Nasha would be safe with me ... and, yes, I did know how to change a diaper. A policeman learns a lot of strange skills - but I didn't mention that aspect.

* * *

If it had been safety pins rather than disposable velcro tabs, it might have been Jane who changed the diaper. As it was, my thumb - still sore and still swollen - managed well enough and I was burping the child - another strange skill - when Jane entered to announce that a bank messenger had arrived.

"Switch the calls to the answering service, then show him in," I invited. "You'll need to check the count. My thumb managed diapers but I don't think it can manage bills."

Just managing a recognizable signature proved harder than changing the diaper had been.

* * *

Ten thousand - even in twenties, fifties and hundreds - was a nice stack of cash.

And we still didn't have a safe.

In the end, Jane stood on my desk to lift a ceiling panel and slid an envelope - with half the cash - above the dropped ceiling.

The other half, she would take to the warehouse in the morning. In the mean time, just for the record, we needed photocopies of all of the bills.

At least we had the photocopier. Carrying five grand into Kinko's to use theirs might have invited a little bit of curiosity.