I descend the stairs as fast as my legs can carry me, rush towards the door and push it open. His familiar scent invades my nose – a faint cigarette smell mixed with expensive cologne. With a flick of the switch, I see his desk in the centre of his modern, sleek office and head towards it. One envelope; a small, brown envelope to be specific contains everything I need. My only goal: find said envelope within fifteen minutes and then get the f*** out of this building.
Before reaching the desk I quickly scan the entire office. Two silver cabinets to the left side by side, and a brown white table to the right with a little drawer below it. The desk in the centre has a computer to the side and a pile of papers stacked up neatly. I flick through the papers – nothing important – business jargon and figures. I then try to open the two drawers on either side of the desk but they are locked. Crap.
The silver cabinets are filled with folders. I quickly go through each of the folders as fast as I can in the hope of catching a hint of brown. Nope, nothing. I walk to the opposite side of the room towards the small white table and pick up the frame with a younger version of him standing outside a cafe with an elderly woman who has her arm around his shoulder. I put the frame back and open the little drawer. I flick through the sheets of paper and suddenly a sliver of silver catches my eye. A key.
I walk towards the desk and thankfully the key fits the drawers to the desk. The brown envelope sits comfortably on top of a black folder and I clutch it to my chest and allow myself to breath a sigh of relief. I check my watch. I can’t help but to smirk at how fast I was able to locate the envelope. I push it into my sidebag. Something makes me stop in my tracks and I have the urge to open the second drawer to the desk. Better make this quick.
Sheets of papers. Not a surprise there. I put my hand into the drawer but unexpectedly I feel a cold, metal object. I pull the drawer open further, place the sheets on to the disk and pick the object up. It takes a few seconds for my brain to process what it is that I am holding but when I do my eyes widen in horror and I gasp in shock. In my hand I am holding a gun. He has a gun. Suddenly the door is swung open. “What on earth do you think you’re doing in my office?”