The reception clerk wrote the time beside Mira’s name before accepting her device.
Mira watched her place it in a numbered compartment, close the door and hand over a receipt bearing the same number. She kept the paper. Through the glass beyond the counter she could see the public waiting area. A person in a plain coat sat beside the noticeboard, reading something folded across one knee. She did not try to make them acknowledge her.
“I need the desk telephone,” she told the clerk.
The clerk looked toward the intermediary, who had come through the internal door to collect her.
“An arrival confirmation,” Mira said.
He smiled. “Of course.”
Tessa answered on the second ring. Mira gave the agreed message and the reception time. Tessa repeated both. Only then did Mira hang up and follow the intermediary into the corridor.
The archive smelled of dry paper and hot pipework. There was one large table, two chairs on either side, and a trolley bearing folders tied in gray tape. Rook stood beside the window with his hands empty.
