Adrian closed the report.
He left his office, and walked down the hall. Past the empty corner office, past the reception desk, even past the elevator banks, toward the bullpen where the lower-level employees worked.
He didn't have a reason to go there. His job didn't require it. But he went anyway.
The bullpen was open-plan, rows of desks, cheap chairs, fluorescent lights that hummed overhead. The people who worked here were young, ambitious and desperate to prove themselves.
They looked up when he walked in.
Adrian ignored them.
His eyes landed on a desk near the window, messy, covered in sticky notes and empty coffee cups. A young man sat there, typing furiously, his back to the room.
Adrian walked over. "You," he called out.
The young man's fingers froze on the keyboard. He turn
