Grant entered at the twenty-sixth floor, having taken a separate elevator to retrieve his coat. The three of them stood together while the numbers descended. Finally, Grant turned to Daniel.
"Mr. Carter, I owe you an apology. A proper one."
Daniel waited.
"This morning, I treated your job as evidence that you couldn't know anything useful about ours. I assumed you were overstepping because I didn't like being corrected in front of the delegation. Then I questioned whether you had spoken to the press, without evidence. Both things were wrong."
"Thank you for saying so," Daniel replied.
Grant looked uncomfortable. "I also want you to know that I asked IT and legal to preserve the records related to the leak. They're reviewing several possible sources. They found no reason to suspect you."
"That's good."
"I know the suspicion shouldn't have been there to begin with."
Daniel nodded. He was not sure Grant had changed forever, and he did not feel compelled to offer forgiveness as a reward for speaking the truth once. But the apology had been specific. There was a difference between telling someone you regretted a misunderstanding and naming exactly what you had done. He understood the value of that difference more clearly than most.
The lobby was busy with the evening shift. A receptionist who had seen Daniel leave that morning in the company of senior executives looked twice as he emerged from the elevator. Two security officers glanced at his badge, then at Victoria. Daniel recognized the awkward change in their faces, the sudden realization that someone they had barely noticed might have been important after all. He hoped they would not feel ashamed for failing to recognize him. He wanted them to be ashamed only if they had treated him poorly because they believed he wasn't important.
At the transportation desk, the black Lincoln's keys lay in their usual tray. Jessie Monroe had arranged the replacement driver, and a supervisor had left Daniel a message confirming that his full shift would be paid. Daniel picked up the keys long enough to check that the vehicle had been logged correctly, then returned them to the desk. It was a small ritual, the same one he had performed at the end of every assignment. The car's leather seats, its carefully maintained glass, and the route sheet in the glove compartment all belonged to a day's work he had done with care. Whatever else had happened upstairs, none of that work had become beneath him.
Victoria stopped beside the desk and handed him a narrow folder. It was not the thick transaction binder they had spent the day revising. There were only a few pages inside, printed hastily but with enough detail to prove that somebody had thought about the offer rather than scribbling a title on a business card. The first page proposed a senior advisory position in cross-border partnerships, subject to normal human resources review, conflict checks, and final approval. The next pages outlined an initial project, a flexible schedule, and a limited travel expectation.
Daniel read the heading twice. "You're offering me a job?"