The intercom buzzed; the man behind the desk sighed. “Yes?”
“Mr. Black, your eleven o’clock is here.”
Ten minutes early. He sighed once more. “Fine, show him in.”
There was a light tap on the glass panel of the office door, which was followed instantly by the sound of a shattered window. The door handle turned, and a nervous—and quite sweaty—head appeared around the side of the door, followed by the rest of the body as a man edged into the room. Mr. Black noticed that the man was wearing a colourful homemade mask over his eyes. He also could see the edges of what looked to be a cape, made out of curtains.
“Take off the mask and have a seat,” said Mr. Black, motioning towards the chair next to the desk.
“I can’t,” came the reply, “it’s my, um, secret identity.”
Sigh.
“No, your real i
