He had put the previous day's visitors out of his mind. When Emily approached Arthur's office with a question about whether her incident report had been received, John watched from his desk and smiled to himself. Arthur gestured for her to wait outside. To John, the movement looked like confirmation that the manager would soon settle the matter by reprimanding her for going behind a senior associate's back. He liked that interpretation and saw no reason to test it.
At eight forty-five, Lydia Chen called the gallery's reception desk to confirm that a visiting client and two specially arranged vehicles could be accommodated in the forecourt. The receptionist, unsure why the visitors needed more space than the ordinary customer drop-off, transferred the call to Arthur. The name Bennett caught his attention, as it would have caught the attention of nearly every senior manager in the city. He straightened in his chair and listened closely as Lydia explained that the visitors wanted a brief meeting regarding a vehicle they had viewed the previous day.
"Of course," Arthur said, suddenly alert. "We'd be delighted. Shall I prepare a private salon?"
"Please make a quiet room available for a management conversation," Lydia replied. "Mr. Bennett is bringing his parents, and they also wish to speak with an associate named Emily Torres. There will be a letter for you concerning an incident that occurred yesterday. Mr. Bennett would appreciate your preserving all relevant records."
The final sentence changed the tone of the call. Arthur thanked her and ended it, then searched the company directory for Emily's submitted report. He found it in the incident system, marked received but not yet reviewed. He read the first paragraph, and his stomach sank. Only then did he realize that he had turned away the young woman who tried to report discrimination while continuing to trust John's assurance that the matter was merely an unnecessary scene.
Arthur opened the full account and read it carefully. It included direct quotations, locations, approximate times, and a note that other staff members had been present. Emily had written about following the couple outside and bringing them back for a demonstration, then documented the threat John made to her afterward. It was detailed enough to make an investigation unavoidable and restrained enough that Arthur had trouble dismissing it as personal animosity. He called the security supervisor and asked him to preserve the previous morning's showroom footage immediately.
The supervisor replied that the system retained recordings for a limited period and that an ordinary manager could initiate a preservation hold through the designated process. Arthur did so, then contacted human resources and told them he might need an investigator. He had barely completed the request when movement outside caught his eye. Employees were abandoning their desks for the windows. Two remarkable cars had turned into the gallery's entrance, escorted by a small security vehicle that remained unobtrusively at the edge of the forecourt.
Arthur went to the window. John stood beside the reception counter with his coffee, staring openly. For one extraordinary moment, professional instincts gave way to the simple wonder of seeing machines that were ordinarily only the subject of industry articles. The Boat Tails moved with a kind of confidence their rarity seemed to produce all by itself. The dark-blue car stopped first, sunlight sliding along its sculpted sides. The second settled beside it, its paint reflecting the gallery facade in long liquid shapes.