The brass handle clicked.

The heavy glass door swung inward, moving silently on its polished hinges.

Arthur Vance stood in the doorway.

He wore a dark gray suit that looked too warm for the Dallas humidity, and he carried a thick leather briefcase.

Behind him were two younger men, both wearing matching blue lanyards and carrying black plastic cases.

“Elliot,” Arthur said, his eyes scanning the long mahogany table. “We need to secure the system terminals immediately.”

Elliot did not look up from the papers in front of him.

“Give me five minutes, Arthur,” Elliot said.

“The managing committee has already authorized the emergency lock,” Arthur said, taking a step into the room.

“I know what they authorized,” Elliot said, his voice flat and hard. “But you want to see this first.”

I reached into my leather handbag and pulled out a slim, navy-blue folder.

I had kept this one separate from the files I gave to Elliot’s assistant earlier this morning.

The paper inside was still warm from the printer in my hotel business center.

I slid the folder across the polished wood.