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“Sure. Thanks.” I nodded, and made my way through the held-open door, which was shut firmly behind me.
The corridor was eerily quiet. There were only a few rooms, and I tried not to look into them, as if the thought police could find out I’d been snooping, somehow.
At the end of the corridor, I stood in front of the door markedForest Brock, CEOand knocked.
And there was silence.
I knocked again, to more silence.
After a few cycles of knocking and waiting, a woman stepped out of the nearest office and appraised me with her arms folded. She was tall and broad, and distinctly unhappy looking. Her door readMandy Weber, Chief Operations Officer (COO).
“What exactly are you doing?”
“I have an appointment with... Mr Brock.” It felt weird, up here, using his first name.
“You got past security?”
“Yes. Like I said, I have an appointment. I was told to come straight up.”
She scowled. “Well, he’s not here. Someone’s made a mistake.”
“No one has made a mistake. I confirmed this with him on the phone. Including that I was to come directly up to his office.”
She continued to stare.
“Call reception, if you like, to confirm.”
Mandy stalked wordlessly into her office and shut the door. I didn’t see her again, so I presumed she’d gotten confirmation that I was in fact not an intruder.
In fact, I didn’t see anyone again. Though I waited and waited – I’d been paid to be here, after all – no one came. And knocking on the office door seemed futile, since it would only draw the attention of stern Mandy. I called the number I had for him several times to no avail, and sent a text message for good measure.
Eventually, I departed, going back through security. “Has anyone seen Mr Brock? I had an appointment with him. He wasn’t in.”
The security would only repeat the same line, no matter who I asked. “We cannot disclose the location of Mr Brock.”
Frustrated, and more than a little disappointed, I made my way back down in the elevator to reception.
“Hi. Mr Brock never showed up for his appointment. Can you get in touch with him for me?”
The receptionist smiled apologetically. “Unfortunately not.”
“No?”
“Sorry. It’s policy.”
“Right. And you can’t disclose the location of Mr Brock, is that right?”
She nodded, apologetically again.
I was about to say something else when there was suddenly a bustle of movement on the other side of the entrance hall. A tall man in glasses and a dark suit burst out of one door, flanked by between five and ten junior-seeming members of staff. Was that...?
I took a step towards them, opening my mouth but not sure what to say.
Then the man in charge led the group through another door, and the door slammed shut behind them.
I looked at the receptionist. “Was that...?”
And then, knowing I wouldn’t get a straight answer, I ran to the door they’d departed through. “Mr Brock!”
