Chapter 8: Director Cayne's Courtesy Call

The summons arrived on paper.

That was the first thing. In an institution that routes every communication through registered channels, that transmits meeting requests via authenticated civic-messaging protocol with a timestamp and a sender ID and a compulsory read-receipt, Director Holt Cayne's office used a printed card on Bureau letterhead, hand-delivered to my division's front desk by a human courier at precisely eight-fifteen in the morning. The card was cream-colored and heavy — the kind of stock that costs more per sheet than most people spend on lunch. It requested, with the elaborate courtesy of those who do not actually make requests, the pleasure of Detective Voss's attendance at a progress briefing, fourteenth floor, two o'clock that afternoon, at my earliest convenience.

My earliest convenience. As though I had other appointments scheduled over a death I'd been handed twelve hours ago.