It was a damn good thing Dora had been the security guard on duty or Angelo would have had no compunction about turning around and sprinting out the door when faced with the edifice that was the sixteenth floor entrance to Stanley, Tu, Rolfmann, and Thompson. Every single thing about their offices had reeked of intimidation and power.
First, the thick glass doors with the four names in gold leaf, didn’t open like doors, with handles. They shot aside with a soft, “whoosh!” like they were from Star Trek. Not some clunky supermarket door either. One moment the things were there blocking him out. The next moment they were gone, and the fittings were so seamless it was hard to tell where they’d gone into the sides of the ebony archway that dared the intruder to pass beneath. He half expected a
