James
I enter the lobby of Haswell building, heading across to the Concierge, a pretty blond girl, whose name tag declares her to be ‘Cara’ and who sort-of-knows-me from my numerous visits here. But as I cross the floor, a man, a stranger to me, stands from the reception seating, holding out his hand to shake.
“Mr Alexanders? Ah, good morning. I am Duncan Brady. Thank you for coming in. I was asked to meet you here.”
“I was expecting to see Bob Moran?”
“You were, but we’ve had a bit of a hitch and Mr Haswell asked me to meet you instead. I’m to take you up to his office.”
Haswell? Wants to talk to me?
“Mr Haswell? Richard Haswell? The CEO?”
“That’s right. He’d like a chat with you.”
Brady ushers me to the elevator and instead of going to one of the conference rooms where I was to have my meeting with Bob Moran, the Technical Director; I am taken to the Fifth Floor, the Directors’ level.