Cassidy Holt found him in the service corridor the day before the inquiry, which was how he knew the deal had turned, because Cassidy in a corridor was Cassidy off the record.
She fell into step without a greeting.
"The office is gone," she said. "Emptied over two nights. Furniture, terminals, the recovery-language drafts. The people I had arrangements with have stopped answering the arrangements."
"Your chain burned."
"My chain burned, and the smoke is headed for a hearing room, and I have spent a career making sure I'm never in a room when the smoke arrives." She checked her handheld, the habit, the window she'd built in advance. "So this is a courtesy call."
"Professional courtesy."
"Different thing than kindness. You remember."
He remembered.
◆◆◆◆
They walked two turns of the service hall, and she gave him what she'd come to give, itemized, because Cassidy delivered everything itemized, even a goodbye, even a warning she was handing over for free.
