Clerkenwell, London
January 26, 2025 — 15:30
Liam sat in his office chair, gazing out the window.
The rain had stopped, though the sky remained a dull gray. The streets of Clerkenwell were still slick with moisture, the gaps between the bricks reflecting a cold, leaden sheen. His coffee had cooled from hot to lukewarm, from lukewarm to cold—untouched.
His thoughts lingered on the email.
C-1192. That batch number.
The test results had come in that morning—the concrete grade was indeed insufficient. One level below the design standard. Within five years, cracks would begin to form; within ten, there would be a genuine risk of collapse.
He had not told Chris yet.
Nor had he told anyone.
Except—
When the door was pushed open, he didn’t even bother to look up.
“Not even going to knoc
