Or the world would turn for the worse.

Maggie left the office. For no sensible reason she ran in a half-crouch along the corridor, as if that silent watcher in the neighbouring building weren’t simply following her story but preparing to pick her off with a high-powered rifle. But the watcher didn’t exist. She was alone, and hadn’t been found yet, but she had no right to be here, and there was a guard on a floor below, and more people below that. All these nervy thoughts made her clumsy—at the door to the lobby her lanyard caught on a button, and in a brief slapstick routine she tugged its catch loose and her security pass fell to the floor. She bent to collect it and, as she straightened up, saw through the lobby door’s porthole window the lift opening, and a man stepping out.

Once through the door, he stopped.

Was he sniffing the air, like a dog, for strangers?

Maggie had scrambled round the corner. She was now in a break-out area, so called, as if it were from here that workers might make their escape: an area three metres square, surrounded by high-backed sofas. She was lying on one in case he dropped to the floor and scanned for visible feet. Though it was more likely that he would simply walk past and see, not just her feet, but all of her, one whole young woman, twenty-six, very scared.

She closed her eyes, that ancient trick. I can’t see you, you can’t see me.

Harvey, what do I do now?

The man was talking. That same bass delight she’d heard in the stairwell. Joshua, the guard.

“Yo, yeah, I’m on twenny-five.”

crackle

“No, it’s juss, lights are on, man. Like something triggered them?”

crackle

“Pussy yourself, man. Doing a job here.”

crackle

“Yeah, well, you get tired watching TV, we can always swap.”

The crackling stopped.

Joshua paused.

He’s by the pigeonholes, thought Maggie.

She knew those pigeonholes well.

And if he was by the pigeonholes, he was standing not far from where she lay. Might even be staring in her direction. If he had X-ray vision, she was caught already. And if she made a sound, a squeak, a rustle . . . She was trying not to breathe. To make herself smaller than small.

The floor creaked. He’d taken a step.

Towards her?

It was like a thought experiment. Any move she made to determine his whereabouts would give her own away.

Another creak.

Was that one closer?