The grey-suited man swore as his smartphone chimed.
“Dammit, I know I’m late!” He swerved in and out of traffic, trying to make up a couple of minutes.
He pulled into the dusty parking lot of the nondescript, beige industrial park, and parked next to a row of dying junipers.
He swiped his badge at the entryway and waited for the door to click open. Then he submitted to the second biometric scan at the end of the hall, and signed the guard’s entrance log.
In the elevator down, he glanced at his watch impatiently. This meeting was critical. It could make or break the deal he was working on, and put him on the fast track for partnership.
Outside his office, he instructed his assistant, “Would you forward my phone, and go through my email for anything critical? Don’t interrupt me for the next hour.”
He walked into his cavernous, antiseptic office and closed and locked the door behind him. Picking up a blowtorch off his desk, he turned and surveyed the man handcuffed to his folding chair.