At first, it makes sense — sit still, let him come to them. Whoever he is. 

Zion claims the chair by the door, legs crossed, arms folded, eyes sharp but tired.

Lanre leans against the wall, thumbing his phone like he might actually get reception out here.

And Tobi… paces. 

The silence inside the room is heavier than the heat outside. 

They pick through the papers again, slower this time. 

On one desk, Zion finds a stack of envelopes — all unsealed, all blank except for one thing: 

A faint watermark that looks like an insignia.

She squints at it.

“Does this mean anything to you?” she asks. 

Tobi shakes her head. But something about it feels… itchy. Familiar.

She pockets one of the envelopes anyway. 

Lanre flips through a book lying under the desk — it’s a ledger of some kind. Numbers and names scribbled without much order. Most of the pages are torn out. 

At the back, a single note: 

Check the locker. She knows the combination. 

Lanre holds it up. “You know anything about this?” 

Tobi blinks at the paper. The words blur for a second.

She shakes her head again. “No.”

But her stomach churns. 

Time drags. 

They settle into a rhythm of restlessness.

Zion humming quietly to herself.

Lanre muttering under his breath every few minutes.

Tobi tracing circles in the dust on the table. 

By the time the sun starts sinking outside, the air inside feels stale. 

And no one comes. 

Zion is the first to stand. 

“This is stupid. He no go show.” 

Lanre pushes off the wall. “Agreed. Whoever he is, he’s already two steps ahead. Just leaving this place open was probably part of the game.” 

Tobi lingers at the center of the room.

She runs her fingers over the back of the chair where the photo had been taken.

Then quietly nods.

“Let’s go.” 

They file out into the fading light.

Zion tucks the envelope into her bag.

Lanre pockets the ledger page. 

Tobi takes one last look at the building before the door swings shut behind them. 

The waiting game is over. 

Now it’s time to chase.