...dishonor is like a scar on a tree, which time, instead of effacing, only helps to enlarge.
Bushido - The Warrior's Code, Inazo Nitobe

In the time it took Sloan Cartland to slide his badge through the outside slot on Northstar Security Firm's door and punch in his personal code, a layer of snow had already dampened his hair. He shivered in the early January morning, grateful that in spite of the icy Washington D.C. streets, he'd arrived at work in record time. Time he needed, if he was going to have the security ready for the museum piece being delivered next week.

The magnetic lock clicked and he quickly opened the door and stepped inside the foyer. Welcome heat rushed over this face and bare hands. Northstar's foyer served their elite clientele with a balance somewhere between "we-welcome-your-business" and "stop-or-we'll-shoot". Every time Sloan walked through these doors, he felt as though he'd finally come home.

He approached the chest-high counter that doubled as a reception desk and defense barrier against unwelcome visitors. Hicks, one of the firm's twenty-four/seven on-duty guards, manned the station this morning. Although he was in his sixties, Hicks stayed as fit as any of the agent.

"What's going on in the conference room?" Sloan asked the guard. "I saw the light as I pulled into the parking lot."

"Not the conference room," Hicks said. "The lab." He cocked his head toward the glass doors that led to the heart of the firm's building. "She's at it again." He propped his elbows on the counter and leaned forward with a conspiratorial whisper. "Even slept in the lab again last night."

Hicks must be referring to Allison Richards. She'd been putting in a lot of hours since a hacker breached through their network systems a couple of months ago. She was one of Northstar's top lab technicians, and an enigma. At least to Sloan. He brushed the melting snow off his hair and shook droplets from his coat. "She left the lab door open?"

Hicks nodded. "Don't tell her I said so, but I think she feels less isolated with the doors open."

"I'll check on her before I settle in for the day. Make sure she's not feeling lonely." He said the last with his tongue in his cheek. If Sloan had to pick any of the current employees, agents or techs, who craved seclusion, Allison would be at the top of the list. "Do you want a fresh coffee?" he asked as he handed over his ID badge, which Hicks dutifully scanned and noted it in his log.

"No thanks. The wife's forcing me to cut back on the caffeine." Hicks returned the badge. "You may want to see if Allison wants anything, though."

"I'll do that." He waited for Hicks to release the lock on the double glass doors and then crossed into the inner sanctum of the firm.

It never ceased to amaze him how ordinary the interior of the firm looked. Just off the nearby rail yard, the building was as unique in its location as it was in its mission. The antennae and satellite farm on the roof accommodated the majority of communications and information flow, giving the firm a decided advantage in the private security business. This was a building filled with purpose. Something Sloan had been lacking until he'd arrived at Northstar.

He removed his coat and headed to his desk. The hallway split after only a few steps. To the right was the agent's cubicle area. On his first day at work, he'd cringed when he learned he wouldn't have a regular office. But after seeing the large cubicle with panels tall enough to barely see over when standing, he found the privacy and openness a convenient combination.

Nearly all assignments demanded an on-site presence, which kept agents on the go. Business was always steady. Agents barely had time for writing case reports before then next assignment, so the cubicles were usually devoid of personnel. As the firm's profiler, Sloan didn't do much field work and consequently spent more time in the office maze.

Except for this week. Which was why he'd driven from his warm Georgetown apartment on frozen streets to get here before six a.m. He was responsible for the extra security on an irreplaceable museum exhibit and late getting the work-up completed. Allison hadn't finished the case file when he'd left last night. He hoped it was on his desk now.