Richard couldn’t know where the MD was or what might have become of them, just that they were not here now. It looked to him like no one was. He lifted the piece of paper to read out the words that were now damp enough to start to run.

‘Block B. Room 2.12.’ He looked up. It was still cold enough for his words to be visible as they drifted towards a set of double doors that were also labelled: ‘Entrance BLOCK B’. He made for it.

The right door pushed open, scraping against a perished rubber floor that was peeling away. The sound was loud, made louder by the sparse interior beyond. The door clattered shut behind him. The echoes reinforced the impression of an empty building. He dropped the hood of his jacket and paused for any other signs of life. Still nothing.

A stairwell was directly in front of him, a desk to his right and a brick wall to his left. The steps looked to be made of solid concrete but there were gaps between them, enough that he could see lift doors that hung open. Room 2.12 was surely going to be on the second floor but there was no way he was taking the lift.

Walking up the stairs gave him a view out over his car and the sopping car park in its entirety. The chilly wind whipped and harassed the tallest of weeds to add to the overall impression of a place long abandoned.

‘Temporary office?’ Richard’s nerves had him speaking out loud. Those were the words the man had used to describe this place. Surely there was no one based here legitimately? Richard came to a full stop on the stairs, even half-turned to go back. But he didn’t. The man had been nervous about giving Richard any information, even met him at a silent spot in the early morning so as not to be seen with him. This seemed like a drastic length to go to for privacy but maybe it added a little more to what he was claiming. Maybe he did have information that would get him into trouble for sharing. He couldn’t think of another reason to bring him here. When Richard started up again his pace was quicker.

The second-floor layout mirrored the ground. A couple of corporate-looking sofas were stacked on top of each other in the space where the front desk had been situated below. The lift doors, shut on this floor, faced an internal door with a long glass window, through which Richard could see a dark expanse of corridor. He moved into it. The first door on his right was labelled ‘Room 2.1’. The doors went up sequentially. Down the far end of the corridor a weak light caused a slit window above a door to pulse a dirty white. There was power at least.