Chapter 14: Wanda's First Honest Answer

The second interview with Wanda Maximoff was not scheduled.

I sent a note through FRIDAY at quarter past nine — not a request, technically, and not a summons; simply a statement that I would be in the small conference room on the forty-fifth floor at ten o'clock, and that I had one question, and that it would take less time than the first conversation if she preferred brevity. I did not explain why the room on the forty-fifth floor rather than the one we had used before. The reason was straightforward: the forty-fifth floor conference room had windows on three sides, and I wanted her looking at the sky rather than the wall. People who are used to containing themselves do better with an horizon in reach.

She arrived at ten exactly, which I had again expected, and she was wearing a different shade of dark than the last time — charcoal rather than wine, something quieter. She did not bring anything with her. No cup, no folder. She sat down across from me and folded her hands on the table, and she looked at me the way she had looked at me the first time, with the patient, considered attention of someone who has sat across from a great many people asking questions and learned exactly how much to give them.