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foyers that double as mudrooms for the inevitable wet and freezing seasons. The McCaslin family home was no exception. The area inside their front door was spacious, the floor was stone, to welcome wet boots and shoes, while the paneled walls were furnished with ample hooks and cubbies to accommodate gloves and hats and the multiplicity of coats.
    As Kendall entered his home he was halted by the unsettling sight of a woman’s coat and strap purse. Behind him, Josh stood poised between the doors, distressed by the warm aroma of cooking.
    From another room, a sunny female voice carried easily into the foyer. “Kendall? Is that you?”
    Leah McCaslin calmly walked into the front room carrying a dish towel. She was slender, smiling, and dressed in jeans and a soft sweater. “Dinner’s gonna be a few minutes yet – Oh, Josh, I didn’t expect you to be here.”
    As she got nearer to her silent husband, a growing concern filled her face. “What? You look like you’ve seen a – what’s wrong? Kendall, your head’s bleeding!” She rushed up to him, anxiously checking his forehead.
    Kendall suddenly wrapped his arms around her and his tears flowed. “Leah! My God! Leah…”
    Leah didn’t understand but responded warmly to the embrace. “Hey, it’s okay. Honey, it’s gonna be okay. Take it easy. What’s going on?”
    Confused, and a little self-conscious, Leah looked over at Josh, only to see that he too was falling apart. Leah automatically reached out to comfort him. “Oh Josh, sweetie, come here.”
    She circled her free arm around her son and drew him in. “I don’t know what’s happened to you two but I’m sure everything’s gonna be all right.”

CHAPTER 4:
    Each of the many meeting rooms at Reivers Corporation was named after a type of bird. This aided in identifying the rooms and indicated a sensitivity to nature, which was deemed important to the overall public relations of the company. In keeping with this custom, the largest conference room, located in the executive wing, was named the Marabou Stork room and had a tasteful plaque outside the double doors with an artist’s rendering of the huge bird in flight. This impressive African fowl boasted one of the widest wingspans of any land bird – more than 12 feet – and seemed appropriate for the largest conference room it designated. Overlooked, perhaps, were its diet preferences for carrion and human garbage, along with its disturbing outward appearance. It had a naked, pink head and long pink neck, devoid of feathers, with a white ruff at its collar and black and white plumage below. Starkly white, extremely long legs completed the picture. The white legs were not white by nature but by its practice of defecating on itself with a kind of whitewash. This collision of imagery and habit went a long way to explaining its unfortunate, but more common name, the Undertaker Bird.
    The mid-morning team review, held in the Marabou Stork Conference room, was a standing bi-weekly update to Reive senior management. Heavily attended by teams and their staff, its stated purpose was to highlight progress from the many active projects raiding the archives. In practice, this was the opportunity for ambitious managers to shine, along with their teams, and to make their case for additional access or people. It was also the moment for waning projects to be defended and for new proposals to be touted for their potential.
    The flip side to all this professional sharing, however, was the darker reality of a battle for dominance waged by gifted partisans with extremely capable staffs. The blood flow in this well-appointed room was virtual, but the combatants played for keeps: slashed projects freed up time and personnel, expanded projects amplified power and spread influence. Few things presented here were surprises, and fewer still held the interest of more than a narrow slice of the assembled specialists. Today’s meeting was about to be an exception.
    Jonathan