“Who is leaking information out of this office?” Kamala demanded, leaning into Astrid’s face in the cramped supply closet, the sour milk tang of her morning coffee on her breath.

“I do not know,” Astrid said carefully.

“16%. My approval rating is down to 16%! I was once the darling of the DNC!” Kamala fumed. “I dropped out of the primary to help Joe and now I’m down to 16%!”

Astrid tried not to wince under the hail of spittle and revisionist history.

“You stay right here!” Kamala said. “I’ll get the truth from those other two. I’m a very important lawyer!”

The supply closet door still quivering, Astrid heard a tap-tap-tap and a tippity-tap-tippity coming through the wall.

“If that is supposed to be Morse Code, I don’t know it,” she said loudly. “I’m not a Depression-era Cub Scout.”

The tapping persisted until a small hole appeared in the wall beside her.

Kamala burst in again and screamed, “Seresto gave you up! She saw you having lunch with a Fox reporter!”

“No, she didn’t. I never have had lunch with a Fox reporter, so she couldn’t have possibly seen me having lunch with one.”

Furious, Kamala grabbed Astrid’s purse and dumped it out on the floor, lipstick, tampons, tubes, jars, and pens going all over.

“If you needed some lotion all you had to do was ask,” Astrid said calmly.

“Where’s your phone, where is it?” Kamala demanded.

“It’s right here,” Astrid said, holding it out.

“Unlock it!”

“It’s unlocked.”

Kamala snatched it away and then kicked around the contents of Astrid’s purse. “Are those Bluetooth headphones?!?” Kamala screamed, picking up the small white charging case.

“My iPhone doesn’t work with anything but Bluetooth headphones,” Astrid said.

Kamala huffed and left with the phone and headphones, slamming the door behind her. In the next minute or so, Astrid heard doors slamming all through the office.

Tap-tap-tap.

“Really?” Astrid yelled.

The hole grew a little larger as she watched. Finally, a small rolled tube of paper was poked through the hole and fell on the floor. Astrid picked it up.

On the back was a user name and password.

“Oh, David,” Astrid said sadly. “I’ll tweet it for you. But I just don’t know if it will work.”

“Please,” David said, his voice reduced to a mouse through the hole.

“I’ll use that picture I took of you at your desk. It looks very contrite.”

Astrid heard the door next to her’s open and Kamala screamed, “Who are you talking to?!?”

“David,” Astrid whispered to herself, “David.”