The rhythmic tapping of Travis's fingers against the polished mahogany of his desk sounded like a metronome gone awry- a frenetic pulse echoing the chaos that had besieged his company. Paperwork towered around him like modern-day obelisks, each inscribed with problems demanding immediate attention.

　　"Travis, the Henderson account is on line one," his assistant interjected from the doorway, her voice tinged with urgency.

　　"Take a message," he called out, not ...