Sbu tried calling Airtime.
“Hi, this is the voicemail of Mfundo AKA Airtime. I’m too awesome to come to the phone right now, but if you’d like to leave a message – ” Sbu hung up.
K8 was still on her phone to Song. “Where’s the office?” she asked. “We should check it out.”
“Are you sure you guys want to do that?” said Song. “Last time we went barging into a bad guy’s house I got my arm broken, remember?”
“We’ll just drive past and make sure Airtime’s not there,” said K8.
Reluctantly, Song gave her an address of a building in town. “It’s on the 17th floor,” she added.
– – –
K8 and Sbu drove across town and parked opposite the building. It was a brown concrete office block with tinted windows, and dark streaks down the sides made by years of rain. They got out of the car, and looked at the building warily.
“What do we do now?” asked Sbu. “Do we wait for Airtime? What if he’s already in there?”
“We should check,” said K8.
They crossed the street and entered the foyer.
Inside, it was dimly lit. There was a grid of mailboxes on one wall. The floor was tiled, and covered with streaked splotches as if someone had only got halfway through mopping it.
A security guard sat at a reception desk next to the elevators. He was reading a tabloid and listening to a poorly-tuned radio.
“Sign in, please,” he said, not looking up.
Sbu looked at the man. He was quite old, with a moustache and a pair of reading glasses. There was an empty tea-cup on the table next to him. He probably wasn’t involved in what was going on in the building. He probably didn’t care much, either.
Sbu skimmed through the recent entries in the visitor’s book.
“Look,” he said to K8 quietly, “He’s not here. He hasn’t signed in.”
“Great,” said K8.
“That’s that then.” Sbu was about to leave, when he saw K8 looking at the elevators.
“What is it?” he asked.
K8 seemed to make a decision.
“We should have a look upstairs,” said K8. “Just to check.”
WHAT DO YOU THINK? If you were K8 or Sbu, would you go upstairs? Should people try to deal with crime themselves?