Corridor One

  ***

  Dubois was in his office earlier than usual this morning. He needed to read a couple of reports, sign some documents that had been laying on his desk since yesterday, but mostly he was anxious to hear the details that Interpol had promised to present to him in the morning. His secretary was scheduled to arrive later in the morning after picking up his dry-cleaned shirts. To get his usual cup of coffee with a fresh croissant, Dubois had to go down to the lobby’s café by himself. Five to nine, and no calls. He hesitated to leave his office unattended. His call to the café with a request for delivery to his office was rudely rejected, justified by the large volume of customers and the fact that he did not have his order placed ahead of time. Dubois waited until nine-thirty, then, hoping that the coffee shop would not have long line-ups, he locked his office and quickly went down to the lobby.