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Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

The next day, Von Steubon was gone again.

I spent some time in the office, wondering what I should do now that I had filed the pile of papers he had left for me today.

I sat there, letting the silence envelope me for a while.

I debated whether or not to seek out Pirot, but decided against it, not really wanting to see any prisoners; my own experience as a prisoner was too recent, too fresh.

I sat there for a while more.

I organized my desk.

I flipped through the small wall calendar next to my desk, putting a small circle around my April Sixth birthday on next month’s page.

I looked at the clock on the opposite wall. My training with Pirot was not for another two hours.

I looked at the closed door between my small outer office and Von Steubon’s office. I recalled the bookshelves along the left wall of his office.

It took me ten minutes of boredom to decide to stand up and walk cautiously to his office door. I realized how silly I was being. There was no one around, and there was, therefore, no reason to act as though I were sneaking around.

I opened his office door, flipping the light switch and flooding the dark room with light.

Von Steubon’s office was clean; I did not see any dust, even on the books. The curtains on the windows were closed. The contents on top of the desk (one pile of papers, one book, two fountain pens, and a watch) were arranged neatly. I did not touch anything, simply going to the bookshelf and browsing the titles until I found something interesting enough to read.

Then, taking the book, I shut out Von Steubon’s light, shut his office door, and returned to my chair.

I spent the next hour and a half reading, until Pirot came to fetch me.

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