Ryan's alarm went off at seven.
He was already awake.
He'd slept — actually slept, which he'd been mildly surprised by — but had been lying there since six forty like someone whose body had finished sleeping but whose brain had somewhere to be.
He got up. Shower, the good coffee, eggs he ate standing at the counter because sitting felt like waiting and he didn't want to wait.
He dressed carefully — the charcoal suit, a white shirt, a tie he'd bought specifically for situations that required a tie and hadn't worn yet. He stood in front of the mirror and looked at himself for a moment.
He saw a man who ran a company that had received institutional investment.
That was the point.
He left at eight forty-five, took a cab, and arrived at the federal building on Broadway at nine thirty-two. Walked through security. Gave his name at the desk. Sat in a waiting area with plastic chairs and a water cooler and government-issue carpet and waited.
