Few places are as intimidating as a dark corridor at night.

The absence of the usual background noise makes any sound seem twice as loud, and any doors along the hallway’s length were fertile breeding ground for the imagination. The one on Jameson’s left seemed to be slowly breathing in and out, while the one on his right seemed to have simply faded away, appearing only in moonlit snatches.

The light switches could only be worked with a special key—part of the latest round of cost-saving measures—so there was no prospect of light ahead. Moonlight only did so much.

Something skittered noisily across the floor in front of him. A rat? A bauble spilled from a thief’s bag? He wasn’t sure which was worse, but the answer wasn’t long in coming.