Nathaniel walked out into the high-ceilinged marble corridor carrying his briefcase while Brenda and Martha collected their wool coats by the double oak doors.

The brass elevator doors groaned open at the far end of the hallway, sending a cold draft along the polished stone floor.

Arthur stepped out from behind a stone pillar, his heavy overcoat draped over his arm, and moved right into Nathaniel’s path before the elevator doors closed.

“We can handle this between old tradesmen, Nathaniel,” Arthur said, his voice dropping to a tight, urgent rattle.

“I’ll drop the breach suit and clear your project bonds by three o’clock.”