In an hour, Palmer Aarington would look like any one of a number of well-dressed young men entering the Hugo Building, but at 5:13 A.M. he was alone. He carried an overstuffed leather briefcase in one hand and the Wall Street Journal in the other.
“Good morning,” he said a little too loudly to the security guard sitting at the front desk.
“G’mornin’, Mr. Aarington. Early again, huh?”
Palmer offered no reply as he observed the guard noting the time in his log. He walked briskly to the elevator and punched the up button with two quick jabs.
At the twenty-third floor, Palmer scanned the empty halls and smiled. Heading directly to the coffee room, he carefully measured two cups of coffee.
Palmer proceeded to his office, grabbed his coffee cup, booted up his computer and returned to the kitchen area where he poured himself half a cup of black coffee. Returning to his office, he placed the coffee on his desk and called up a work folder on his computer screen. Palmer opened his briefcase and removed the Daily News, turning it to the back page and began reading the day’s sports news.
He checked his watch to make sure to replace the tabloid with the Journal before Mr. Kline got in at six. Palmer wanted to make certain that he would be in perfect position to proffer the first kiss of the day to Mr. Kline’s ass.
published 6 February 2013