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voice was muffled by the thick door.
    A pleasant man about Michael’s age or perhaps a little younger – 28, Michael estimated – flat and non-descript on first glance, looked up at him from an expensive high-tech desk chair. “May I help you, Mr. ________?”
    Michael closed the door behind him, briefly surveying the remarkably functional and orderly office. “You know who I am?”
    Smith smiled with the slightest raise of eyebrows. “Of course.” He seemed to become suddenly aware of Michael’s perplexity. He motioned to the metal chairs. “Please, have a seat.” Michael settled into the closest chair, which was unexpectedly warm under his thighs. Smith continued, “We’re a very small family here and,” he met Michael’s eyes and Michael had the distinct impression he himself was under evaluation, “Mr. Doud discussed the purchase with his team at each new step, just as he would any other project.”
    “I see.” Something about the man pricked Michael’s exceedingly efficient subconscious. He made eye-contact while allowing his other faculties to examine the man. Smith relaxed back into his chair’s embracing cushion, clearly complaisantly offering himself to Michael’s evaluation. Smith’s hard planes and angles and the incisive grey eyes leapt into view like a hidden pattern in the midst of manifold dots. The familiar tingle of as yet undefined discovery raced up Michael’s spine. Here was something worthy of attention.
    “Tell me,” Michael relaxed his appraisal, “what made the tall woman rush out of here in such tumult?”
    He watched Smith’s eyes quickly narrow then genially widen. Smith waved a hand. “She needed my help but was very ambivalent about asking for it and,” his expression was sardonic, “even more ambivalent about getting it.”
    Michael looked at him with interest but before his questioning continued Smith’s phone rang. He listened then extended the receiver to Michael. “Mr. Doud is wondering when you’re going to make it to his office. No hurry. He’d just appreciate an ETA.”
    Michael made a decision. He held the phone to his ear. “I hope I haven’t inconvenienced you. I’ll be right down.” He stood and extended his hand to Mr. Smith. “I’m sure we’ll speak again quite soon … and please call me Michael.”
    Two minutes later he was seated on the cordovan leather sofa in Mr. Doud’s office gazing at the broad brown
Mississippi
flowing past the picture “windows”. Though he’d been in Doud’s office numerous times, he’d not yet gotten over the windows’ fascination. They were actually part of the security system – high resolution exterior images projected with clarity akin to Nature’s in real time onto screens in the wall. They were illusion but they looked precisely like windows.
    Mr. Doud watched Michael with amusement. After several minutes he asked, “Did you find anything interesting on your excursion?”
    Michael turned his attention to Doud. “Tell me about Smith.”
    Doud’s face lit up like a bemused Christmas tree. “Oh ho! You met our Mr. Smith!” He paused, considering, Michael assumed, where to begin. “Do you remember a note to the Ownership section of the financial statements in which the minor shareholders were named?”
    “Hmmm. Yes …” Michael’s wide forehead creased fractionally with contemplation. Recognition dawned and his perfect brow became smooth once again. “Yes, I do remember. Yes. Smith. I’d planned to ask you why you had this one shareholder – smaller than the rest and not a Director like the other four minor shareholders. But since I purchased all the outstanding shares, other issues took precedence.”
    Doud’s enjoyment remained visible while his expression shifted to seriousness. “Mr. Smith has proven to be uniquely useful. He embodies an unusual, one might say anomalous, profile, simultaneously very strongly unstructured and intuitive and very strongly methodical and analytical.” The