“TV screens showing the West Wing bathed in light meant drama, crisis, war. Michaelson had seen it before but, he mused as the guard checked his name on a list and waved him through at 10:23 p.m., you never stop being impressed. Quentin’s office was on the second floor of the Old Executive Office Building, directly across West Executive Avenue from the White House. Though Quentin had occupied the office for over three years, it looked as if he had just moved into it and didn’t expect to rema...in for more than a week or so. No pictures or mementos graced the spare shelves or the dark wood, government-issue desk. No plants competed for space with the newspapers, magazines, videotapes, and computer printouts covering the desk and cabinet tops. The oatmeal-colored drapes and carpet were whatever the GSA had tossed into the room. The only thing in the office that Quentin seemed to have chosen was an elaborate phone console next to his computer. As a young woman silently ushered Michaelson into the office, Quentin stood facing the far corner, as far behind his desk as he could get.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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