I marched up to the reception desk at ten forty-five, token at the ready. Before I got there, a shadow fell in beside me and I felt myself wafted gently towards the same elevator as yesterday.

“Greetings, young sir.” A solemn voice ghosted around me and I turned around. There was nobody there. The elevator dinged.

“Welcome to the Upper Bureau.” the voice followed me inside.

At the top, there was no Gregory to greet me. Instead the shadow ushered me along a wide, carpeted corridor that was studded with wall niches holding antiques. A particularly gaudy vase caught my eye, but we had stopped in front of a large mahogany door. It opened, and a gentle waft propelled me inside.

The room was like a movie set. A grand, mature Chairman of the Board-type character would lounge behind the enormous desk, occasionally glancing at the sleek computer screen or out the floor to ceiling windows. He wouldn’t bother with the lavish bookshelves, but might make use of the crystal whisky stand in the corner when cutting deals.

But instead of a grey-templed tycoon, in the centre of the room stood the man who’d destroyed my bumper bar. Owen.

In a dark suit he looked taller than I remembered. And broader. But his eyes still held the same steely glint, and when the door clicked closed behind me my throat felt tight.

“Hello again. Welcome to Tenecore.” He gave a brief smile.

There were dimples. My squirrel brain short circuited for the second time in a month. “Uh…”

He walked forward but stopped, a few feet away from me, his body strangely rigid. “I should introduce myself. Owen Varanor.”

“Er, Braith Brewster.”

“Tea please, Bradley.” He said to the air beside me.

“Very good, sir.” The ghostly voice replied, and I turned my head and almost swallowed my own tongue. Beside me stood a man I’d never seen before. He was thin and bald, and wore a grey suit. He gave me polite nod and headed for the door. I shook my head, the guy must have some special ninja training.

“Would you sit down?” Owen waved a hand towards a sofa.

“I’d rather--”

“Please.” His voice deepened, and my legs moved on their own. Soon I was perched on the edge of a sofa the size of a small boat. 

We sat opposite each other in silence as Bradley set down a steaming tea pot, then disappeared again.

Owen poured me a cup.  “I have to apologise.”

Finally. I began to relax. “It was an accident. I was worried when you drove off, though.”

His forehead wrinkled for a moment. “I meant for yesterday. Gregory should have summoned me when you arrived.”

“Oh. That’s okay…” Sorry for yesterday? Not sorry for destroying my car?

“I’d like to repay you for your trouble,” he pushed a leather folder towards me. The word ‘TeneCore’ was embossed on the front, “We’re an energy company. Thunderbolt Springs holds a promising resource.”

“That’s why you were in the ’Bolt.”

“Yes. Prospecting.”

“Did you find what you wanted?”

He straightened up for a second and cleared his throat. “Yes. I did.”

“Great,” despite the fancy office, a little sarcasm squeezed out of my voice. “So, were you planning on heading back?” With your chequebook, maybe?

He shifted in his seat. “Things have been busy recently. I expected you to come a little earlier, to be honest.”

“Well, things have been busy on my end, too.” I sat back and crossed my arms.  

He nodded towards the folder in my hands. “I hear you’re in between jobs. I have a proposal for you.”

***

I staggered out of the elevator in a daze, Bradley’s voice ringing in my ears. “Thank you for coming, sir. Please consider Mr Varanor’s offer.”

A job? The revolving door swept me onto the street, where a sharp wind was blowing. Jeez, I’d underestimated this guy’s sense of obligation. He’d watched me closely as I read the cover page.

Community Liaison Officer, Thunderbolt project.

“You have local knowledge, and…” he trailed off for a moment, “other skills. It’s a natural fit for the company.”

“I don’t know much about energy.” It was quite the understatement. Light came from light bulbs, fridges were cold. You paid the bill, and these things remained true.

“We’ll take care of the technical side.”

I turned the page and string of zeroes jumped out at me. I started to sweat. “I don’t think I’m qualif--”

“Relocation allowance is included. Think about it, Braith.”