C.J.: Can you get me something while we’re meeting, Kate Harper’s file?
Margaret: I can’t.
C.J.: Why not?
Margaret: That would be classified as top-secret, above my level.
C.J.: So what do we have to do?
Margaret: A formal letter of request, signed by you.
C.J.: Write it. Forge my signature. You can do the president’s.
Margaret: Well yes, but his is simple, just a sweeping garland formation. Yours…
C.J.: Mine is what?
Margaret: Angular, aggressive. I mean, your signature. See the baseline, the unevenly distributed pressure, some counter movement to the natural flow?
C.J.: Which means what?
Margaret: You’re concealing something.
C.J.: It’s my signature! What, are you a counterfeiter, some handwriting analyst?
Margaret: My great uncle was, right after the Civil War. He was a dashing man with a mustache and one arm…
C.J.: Ok by now, we could have written it, and I could have signed it. Just go, do it.
