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Sitting alone in his office at his desk, the boggan examines the clam-shell box again. It sits alone on the blotter like a bomb.
He opens the small case and stares at what rests within.
William drums his pudgy fingers on the desktop.
He takes in a deep breath, holds it, sighs out. His attention is fixed on the box and contents, until he checks his watch. Then back to the box.
Abruptly he closes it and tucks it into an interior jacket pocket. He sits still a few moments, then pats the pocket. Then takes it out, opens and looks, then puts it back.
Another few moments pass.
He snatches the box out of his pocket and shuts it away in a desk drawer, locking it.
He rises to pocket the key and marches out.