"We have a nine o'clock appointment with Mr. Isidore Salmon."

The secretary looks past the woman who spoke and asks Mr. Warrilow, "You are?"

Olga leans her body and pokes her head between the secretary and Mr. Warrilow, "V&S Security. I am Mrs. Yunevich. He is expecting me."

The secretary pushes a button, "A Mrs. Yunevich is here."

A man replies through intercom, "Send her in, thank you."

Mrs. Yunevich nods at the secretary, Mr. Warrilow follows and says to the secretary, "Thank you."

"Mrs. Yunevich! Thank you so much for coming." Mr. Salmon sits at his desk, points for Olga to sit, while completely ignoring Mr. Warrilow. "Tell me have you look over the properties?"

"We have."

"What do you think?"

"During the day, we noticed the small infractions by unruly youths."

"You sound so diplomatic."

"Thank you. As you are a merely a simple businessman I could choose to speak frankly. However I feel I want to discuss this with discretion and tread lightly."

"Speak frankly, please."

"I have given this my full attention. I want to talk to you as a politician and supporter of the war effort."

"How is that different from communicating to me as a businessman?"

"If you were a businessman I would say, hypothetically you see."

"Hypothetically." He plays along with a bit of irritation.

"hypothetically. I would suggest you hire two or three auxiliary officers for all shifts for monitoring who goes in and out, check inventory and such things. As a business man this would protect your assets."

"I like the sound of that."

"hypothetically, there would be consequences politically."

He leans in, "How?"

"That profit and your business dealings are more important than anything else. Which is fine for a businessman but politically speaking that is dangerous. We expect more from politicians. We expect creative and more permanent solutions. We suggest you become creative." She pulls off a glove and holds out her hand. Mr. Warrilow unzips the black portfolio and places it in Mrs. Yunevich un-gloved hand. She takes it, opens to the first page, pushes it towards Mr. Isidore Salmon and points, "These are possible solutions."

He flips through the pages. He stops, "These rules of conduct. I like that."

"Govern with social expectations. Nothing makes an awkward teen feel more self concious than attention. You do not want to fill up the prisons with young boys who are this way because their fathers, grandfathers, and mothers are either fighting, joined the fight or simply are replace workers to support the economy. These youth lack the supervision and now have untethered freedom. Become their supervision, becaome a solution."

"What about the theft?"

"Hire a hostess."

"How would that help?"

"It would create a queue. That would generate attention and curiosity. And there will be a side effect, those young untethered youth will not freely run into your establishments. Instead, welcome them in, feed them and have the Hostess take their information."

"What good would that do?"

"We need to find out why they have not been evacuated or joined one of the volunteer youth groups. We need to find out their status and act so."

"What action?"

"If they are orphans, homeless or simply inattentive parents. The first two are easy. Place them in an orphanage and place them in housing with a family in the country. The inattentive parents, well that is just as simple as making the auxiliary officers take the child home or to their place of employment. We might have to use social influence a transformation into the parents the empire need."

"Sensible."

"Politically, it is a win-win."

"Now as far as your layouts," She flips a few pages and points, "This is how your current layout for a few of your establishments."

"Yes, that is to make sure comfort to all those who are eating."

She draws a straight line from two points, "It is also easier to navigate from the entrance."

"Now this is our layout suggestion." She draws a line serpentine.

"But the patrons will not enjoy their dinner."

Olga sits back, "Why would you want them comfortable. You want them to eat the food, not spend hours socializing. This is about feeding the workers. It is a very low-cost meal that demands constant turnovers for a profit before we have the blackout. You are doing everyone a service."

"Okay what about employee theft?"

Olga flips to a last section and taps with her pen, "This."

"What is that?"

"Buid these onto the back of all your establihments and warehouses. This way your employees will have a place to put their things. Small lockers for their personal belongings. Also, no more wearing the uniform home, they get washed with the other linens."

"How would this help stop theft?"

She flips the portfolio again and points, "It is your staff that is doing the stealing, not the patrons."

"The people ..." Mr. Isidore Salmon stands up and calls in his secretary.

"Mr. Salmon," Olga stands in authority, "I would not suggest that sort of action."

The door opens and secretary walks in waiting for instructions.

"Why not? This is criminal."

"Mr. Salmon, you would be firing too many that you would not be able to replace."

He waves his secretary back outside. "How many?"

"These thefts are too organized." Odea turns another portfolio page, "You can see it all begins here with the produce, to the distribution and at the instablishments."

"This is my business," Mr. Salmon sits back in his seat angry. "My downtime would be too costly to find new employees."

"It all begins with you."

"Me?"

"You delegate too much. Not enough hands on." Olga holds out her hand. Mr. Warrilow places two folders in Mrs. Yunevich un-gloved hand. She takes one and hands the other to Mr. Isidore Salmon and points, "Let us begin with produce."

Hours later Mr. Warrilow and Olga walk out of the Bank of London with their chins up high. "That should keep us going for a bit." Olga chuckles, leans into Mr. Warrilow. "We did good. You are not like most men."

"I am not?" He stands a little taller.

"The opposite." Olga lets out a quick puff while holding back a reactionary balk of laughter. She doesn't want to look into his eyes to become weak. She waves down a taxi and continues, "Russia, this world, should take lessons from a man like you. Stong, impressive and not at all afraid of a woman's abilities."

He opens the door and quickly stops Olga from entering. He points the busy street, "Mrs. Yunevich I encourage you to look around."

Olga lifts her eyes to her surroundings, "Yes, times have changed."

"Women are running the British Empire."

They stand watching trouser and siren suit wearing women. Not one woman is freely flying her hair while having decorative headgear to hold the hair from falling into their face. All were carrying large handbags and the once alto male dominated street chatter is now a light hum of femininity voices. The air if filled with hope, concentration and anxiety; the atmostphere of women.

The female cabbie interrupts, "Yer getting in?"

"Yes." He steps aside to let Olga in first.

The return to Savile Row was silent, even the cabbie took and remained quiet after recieving the destination.

Mr. Warrilow lets out Olga of the cab and re-enters by himself. He instruction the cabbie, "Horse Guards Avenue, Whitehall." He looks to Olga, "Let me see if there is anything I am able to do."

She nods and watches the cab until it turns on Vigo Street. She watches and waits for perhaps it is a mistake.