As you remember, the third floor is almost bare. Most of the furniture has already gone from the office suites, and the stud walls have been removed from the area opposite the lifts, leaving gaps in the carpet tiles to show where they once ran. The cables that provided electricity and networking are coiled up and dangling from the suspended ceiling.
You slump onto the floor, put your phone in front of you under the torch beam and prise the back off. It’s soaking inside. The battery drips as you take it out. You know from experience that with ideal conditions – putting everything in a bowl of dried rice somewhere warm – takes at least a couple of days. And your conditions are far from ideal. You have to acknowledge that your phone is dead.
You wonder if Metcalf has anything in his annoyingly locked office that might help.