on twelve to link up with the mainframe and data center on eleven. As
we moved quickly past the sleeping screens, blind eyes staring vacantly
into space, there was an eerie, ghostlike abandonment to the place, all
the more so because of its hectic motion during regular hours. The
phantoms of regimented analysts seemed to haunt the rows of empty
desks. Tam remarked she'd never seen it like this: the nerve center off
duty. Only the storm of the decade, together with two A.M. Sunday
morning, could create such solitude. It took God to shut down Dai
Nippon.
"Okay, time to move fast. Let's hit Mori's lair." I was whispering as
we neared the corner office. Ahead was the closed door, solid oak. I
took a deep breath and reached for the knob.
It was locked.
"No dice." I looked around at Tam, who was still wearing her lamb coat,
gray against her dark hair, sleet melting on the shoulders.
"Let me try." She gave it a twist. Nothing. "I don't suppose we'd be
very smart just to kick it in. Though that's what I feel like right
now, after all our trouble." She turned to me. "Maybe there's a key
somewhere in Noda's office? Think there's a chance?"
"Could be." I was rummaging my pockets. "First, though, let me check
something."
I pulled out a ring and began to flip through it. "I ended up with a
master, courtesy of the RM&S floor manager that day they turned in
their keys. Now, if this internal door lock hasn't been changed yet,
maybe . . ."I selected one and kissed it for luck. "Here goes."
The key, a large silver model, was resistant, the way masters always
are. Undeterred, I wiggled it forcefully, and slowly it slipped into
the knob. A couple of jiggles more and the thing began to revolve under
my hand.
We emitted matching sighs of relief as Tam shoved the door wide and
reached for the light switch. "Now I've got to regress into the past. A
lot of their reports are in Japanese." She went on to explain that
although she could read the _kana _syllabaries easily enough, she'd
forgotten a lot of the _kanji_ ideograms. She could piece together
enough to work through a simple newspaper story, but heavy technical
prose was always tough.