Twelve Years Later

The room, located at the top of the high-rise building far from Rochester, simply had the initials R.A. etched in glass on the double doors. There was an outer office and an inner conference room with a large antique table that filled the oversized space.

I looked around the empty room, walked to the head of the table, and pulled out a chair. Men and women entered, nodded, and took their seats. Mr. Caleb and Miss Bianchi were the last to walk in. Mr. Caleb ...