I stepped into the lobby of One Shell Square. Pale wood, smooth marble and colorful paintings all combined to form an impression of money. Big money. Corporations make me sick.

Walked between the mirrors that housed the security offices, flanking the main entryway. I imagined burly private guards with very big automatic weapons all watching me pass by.

Slight pause. The security screen loomed before me. Any of twenty things on or in me could trigger the alarms. Take a breath, but not too deep. Not too suspicious. I mustered all my cool, and walked through.

Nothing. I walked to the elevator and summoned it.

I let two suits out when the doors opened, stepped in and pressed the button marked 35. As the elevator lurched into motion, I took a hit of coke and let the drug hone my edge on the trip up.

The elevator speaker tuned out, screeched, then started again. It was fast music with a heavy beat, lots of drums. I grinned.

Danger music.

The elevator pinged and the doors opened to the broad figure of Ismail.