When the doors opened, I was greeted by an expanse of polished concrete and steel.

There were no plants, no paintings, and no colorful carpets.

It looked more like a military bunker than a corporate office.

A young woman in a sharp gray suit met me at the elevator doors.

“Mr. Sterling is in a meeting,” she said.

“He left these for you.”

She handed me a heavy leather folder and a silver laptop.

“You can work in the glass office at the end of the hall,” she added.

“What is this?” I asked.

“The backup archives for the offshore accounts,” she said.

She didn’t wait for my response before walking away down the corridor.

I went to the glass office.

It overlooked the East River, which looked grey and turbulent under the winter sky.

I sat down at the heavy oak desk and opened the laptop.

The interface was entirely custom, requiring three separate passwords.

They were written on a sticky note inside the folder.

I typed them in, my fingers cold.

The screen flickered, revealing rows of financial transactions dating back five years.