FORTY-FOURTHE CARPETED HALLWAY was empty. There was a room directly across from the one I exited, and another to my left with the stairwell beside it. I went down, still hiding the pistol under my jacket in case I encountered someone that didn’t need to see it.
I followed the wooden stairs down two flights to the floor I wanted to be at. The first flight I took down with arms extended—the pistol ahead to make sure I could see whatever was on the other side. At the bottom of the next flight, at the landing by the entrance, on the carpet inside the hallway, stood a man with his back towards the stairs. The slender African guy wore the same smart-casual all-black attire that all of them had on. An impressive set of thick dreadlocks hung between his shoulder blades. Looking down between the b
