Page 18 of Arrivals & Assets

“Umm… sure?”

I pulled the chair against the wall, then climbed onto it. I pushed aside one of the drop-ceiling tiles, ducked as I waited for the waterfall of dust to coat my hair and shoulders, then poked my head through.

Even though Connie had informed me that the city had done asbestos abatement, I still felt the need to cover my mouth and nose with my shirt. Then I fished my phone from my pocket and turned on the flashlight.

Dust that hadn’t been disturbed in years coated the tops of the ceiling tiles, and a cloud was still settling from where I’d pushed through. I shone the light around, noting the wires and ductwork, then I spotted what I was looking for: a concrete wallthat went all the way up to the deck of the upper floor. I followed the line of it down until it turned a corner about twenty feet away, then back as I awkwardly turned on the chair to look the other direction.

I could have cried with relief when I saw another concrete wall going all the way to the deck. The size was a bit smaller than I would have liked, but I could tear out the faux walls between offices and put a server room in.

I left the ceiling tile loose as I climbed down from the chair, just in case another potential tenant wanted to look. Then I took a moment to brush the debris from my hair and clothes.

“Did… did you find what you were looking for up there?” she asked.

“I got the information I was looking for, yes,” I answered, not wanting to get her hopes up.

“Ok,” she replied. “Shall we continue?”

“Yes.”

We continued to the end of the hall, passing the print and mechanical rooms. Connie pointed out a loading bay on the other side of the wall when we reached the end.

Then we turned the corner to where the white-collar workers would have been—at least some of them. Numbered service counters ringed a waiting room that still sported the odd uncomfortable plastic chair.

The counters weren’t ideal, but at least they probably didn’t have the security features that a line of bank teller counters would have. We’d likely have no end of headaches when ripping them up, but it could probably be handled by a standard demolition team.

We headed upstairs, where flickering fluorescents attempted to brighten the space once filled with desks and cubicles so that the managers could have windowed offices. It wasn’t great, but it was fixable. The third floor was much the same.

I hated it, but I could make it work.

Connie pointed out a similar building that shared the parking lot, but said it was only a bit bigger than the one we’d just toured. Then we were on to our third location.

Cramped rundown buildings lined the street as we pulled into a tiny parking lot.

“I’ll be honest,” Connie said as we walked to the door. “This one has been on the market for a while because it’s a lot of work. It might be easier for you to get permits for this side of town, but…”

I swallowed. If she was already warning me off it, it couldn’t be good.

The scents of stale flour and yeast were thick as we walked in.

“So this used to be a fairly popular commercial bakery. They provided a lot of bread and pastries for places around town. But when the big brands started to provide more options to cook from frozen…” she sighed. “They made the best bread…”

She shook her head. “Moving on. It’ll take a lot of cleaning and probably a round or two of pest control. But the bones are good. It’s got high ceilings here on the ground floor, and the upstairs offices are nice.”

I walked around and noted the wear patterns in the concrete floor—including the water trails leading to floor drains.

I crouched and studied the worn concrete. “It’s sloped toward the drains?”

“Yes, there’s a slight slope. They had to wash the floors every night.”

“Hmm…” It could be annoying with rolling chairs, but we’d have to renovate it anyway. It was only a matter of time before uncapped drains would start to stink.

I wandered through the space. It was open, and plenty of light poured through glass bricks that filled in where windows once were. And though the ovens, mixers, and other heavy-duty equipment were gone, the outlets that remained suggested that the building had the massive power lines that I needed.

I walked over to a heavy door. “What’s back here?”

“That was the dry storage.”

I flicked on a light and nodded. The walls were thick, and the room had no windows. I rapped my knuckles on the bricks.