Janet pulled the page from her typewriter and looked nervously at her wristwatch. It was almost time. From the inner office came sounds of her boss preparing to leave, the sounds of doors opening and closing. These sounds were well-known to her after eight years as his secretary. Then her boss himself stood at the door, pushing a long arm into his topcoat. She saw how good he looked in his gray suit. It seemed just right against his graying hair.

"Good night, Mr. Mason." She said with a weak smile.

"Good night, Janet. I'll see you Monday morning as usual."

He was quick and friendly. Perhaps, she only imagined the look of concern in his eyes as he walked out.

Janet covered her typewriter. She pulled a lipstick and mirror from her purse. Her hands were cold and shaky when she began to redden her lips and ran a comb through her hair. There would be no time to stop at the women's restroom this evening to do this. She felt a terror slowly rising up inside herself. How could she ever go through with it? But she knew she must. It was too late to retreat. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a knitting basket and a ball of wool with needles sticking out. At the bottom of the basket, lay three microfilms, each in a metal case. She stared at them, feeling guilty.