"We'll notify your dispatcher and arrange another driver if necessary," Victoria said. "You're still available to us. Just thirty-eight floors higher."
Watanabe gave a brief smile. Fujimori did not smile at all. He was looking at Daniel as though a locked door in his memory had just opened a fraction, and he was not yet sure what lay behind it.
The elevator rose so smoothly that Daniel could barely feel it moving. He stood near the back, his paper cup cradled between both hands, watching floor numbers illuminate above the doors. Beside him, Tanaka checked a message from Tokyo and showed it to Watanabe, whose expression hardened. Grant was already dictating a note to his assistant, describing the episode outside as a "minor concern involving an interpretation issue." Daniel heard the phrase and quietly hoped no one would confuse the ability to record an event with the ability to understand it.
At the twenty-first floor, Victoria turned toward him. "Where did you learn Japanese?"
"I lived there for several years."
"Doing what?"
"Studying at first. Then working."
"You're giving me very economical answers, Mr. Carter."
"They tend to cause fewer problems in elevators."
Watanabe looked away to conceal a smile. Victoria surprised herself by almost smiling too. Grant did not. Daniel could feel the executive's displeasure, but it was a familiar temperature. Men who depended on a room's established order often experienced an unexpected participant as a personal insult, even when no insult was intended. Daniel had once been the youngest person in a room where senior executives resisted his proposals until an older adviser repeated them. He had learned not to spend too much energy proving who deserved credit while the actual problem remained unsolved.
When the doors opened, the thirty-eighth floor smelled of polished wood and fresh coffee. Floor-to-ceiling windows made the city look both enormous and strangely delicate, its streets arranged in precise grids beside a gray expanse of Lake Michigan. Assistants hurried to open the glass conference doors. Inside waited lawyers, risk officers, finance executives, translators, and members of Bennett's strategy team, nearly all of whom rose to greet the Japanese visitors. Daniel remained in the doorway until Victoria turned back to him.
"Mr. Carter stays. Please find him a seat."
A young associate began to remove a chair reserved for a junior analyst, then stopped after seeing Grant's expression. Victoria pointed to an empty place beside the legal team. "There. If we need to discuss confidential materials, Elena can arrange the appropriate agreement." Daniel moved to the chair, conscious of the badge against his chest. He removed his jacket but left the badge clipped to it, setting it carefully on the chair back rather than attempting to hide the word that had brought him into the building.
Bennett's general counsel, Elena Ruiz, placed a nondisclosure agreement in front of him. She was direct and efficient, with a pencil tucked behind one ear and the faintly exhausted expression of someone who had been awake editing documents since midnight. Daniel read the agreement and asked a single question about whether it restricted him from reporting unlawful conduct, a safeguard he had seen omitted from older forms. Elena pointed out the exception, then showed him the provision limiting access to documents relevant to the meeting. Satisfied, he signed. Victoria noticed he had not accepted the paper blindly just because it came from someone with a title.