End Day
““This way,” she said in a voice that she hoped left no doubt she knew exactly what to do. She took them across the corridor, through a doorway and into a small, well-appointed anteroom with a posh desk and chair, phone, computer, file cabinets—the domain of the publisher’s executive secretary. She quietly closed access to the hallway, then led them past the desk and through double floor-to-ceiling walnut doors that opened onto her boss’s luxurious office suite.
From the corridor outside came the cheery ding of the elevator. Heavy boots tramped down the corridor. It sounded as if they were being invaded by an army.
Vee reached across the wide desk and snatched up a key from the base of the green-shaded lamp. Crossing to the rear of the room, she motioned to the private washroom and ushered the others inside. It had a white marble floor, countertops and backsplash. The walls were dark walnut paneling. There were no windows. There was no other exit.
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