The stairwell was a reinforced concrete tube with no lighting. Red walked down one floor, then though a fire door to enter the elevator lobby. He had never been in an office tower before, and was disappointed. He’d expected a slick glass-and-steel edifice filled with bright young things making other people rich. Instead he was greeted by a tired corridor with a gray carpet, filthy white walls, and buzzing strip lights. The brass doors of the elevators had been vandalized, street-art sigils carved into the metal with diamond-tipped attitude. Red jammed the down button. There was a deep mechanical rattle, low beeps.