As you remember, the sixth floor has been almost completely stripped. There are no toilets, no cupboards, and only a bare, stained concrete floor. Your feet stick slightly due to the adhesive used to fix the carpet tiles down. The ceiling tiles have been taken away, leaving only the metal grid which held them.
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.