There was a small bathroom off the main office. I flipped the light switch. Porcelain sink, no soap, chrome faucets, white plastic garbage can, porcelain toilet, pink toilet roll on a white plastic holder screwed into the wall. The screws had been painted over, white. I picked up the garbage can. I pulled off the lid. No bag inside. I was setting it down again when I noticed a small thing at the bottom. I pulled out a balled up paper pellet. Like from a tiny piece of paper or the wrapper of a drinking straw. I pulled it out and put the can down. I unfolded the paper. A basic receipt from a cash register. Crumpled and with tiny printed characters. I folded the receipt in quarters and slipped it into the little change pocket of my pants. I turned off the light.

The office was clean and white and sanitary. Which meant that the occupants were careful and discreet people. The phone and the laptop were rectangular black shapes on a white rectangular desk. I used my knuckle to press the green call button on the front of the tropical disco burner. The display lit up and showed the most recent incoming call, the phone in my pocket. The tropical disco burner was The Woodcutter’s phone.

A door opened down the hall. And with it, the sound of conversation leaked out into the corridor. Two or three people talking. Footsteps approached the office where I stood. I backed behind the door. The burner phone’s display was still illuminated from when I had pressed the button. It would automatically shut off after a certain amount of time, depending on how it had been set. Thirty seconds, a minute, ten seconds, it was impossible to know.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The display gave off a sickly white glow, it was relentless, maybe permanent.

The knob turned and the door swung easily, toward me. I held up my hand and used my fingertips to stop it hitting my face. I took a chance and peered around the door. A tall thin man stepped to the desk and stopped, looking at the lit up display. He wore a sports track suit in light blue. A white racing stripe ran vertically down both sides. The guy had the temples and back of his head shaved clean and a thin manicured beard, no more than a line along his chin. I couldn’t see his face. The display switched off and the room went back to being lit by street vapor light through the window. The guy stepped to the desk and reached for the laptop and the phone. When he began to turn around I went back behind the door. He then left, leaving me standing alone in the room again. A key turned and locked the door from the outside.