The rest of the warhouse might be sparse and empty, but this room was starkly different. Perhaps it was the lights being on, or perhaps the fact it was simply cleaner than everything else, but either way it look almost vibrant in comparison to the rest of the building. Filing cabinets lined one wall. A fan perched atop one was angled at a jaunty angle more likely caused by damage than anything. Four desks were set up; relics from bygone days, perhaps, but at least tidy and seemingly in regular use. Two of them even carried laptops resting closed atop them, as well as telephones. The most interesting feature for Amanda, though, was that one of these phones was off the hook.<br/><br/>With no signs of movement or life, the detective pushed into the room, gun first. Sure enough it was empty, though now that she was inside she saw a small, flashing right light next to a lens drawing the girls keen eye to what was undoubtedly a camera. It was too late to duck out, though, and besides... The phone was speaking. A muffled noise eminated from the receiver, drawing the guarded policewoman deeper into the room to collect the thing and lift it to her ear.<br/><br/>The voice called through it. Amanda didn't recognise the voice, but it was a deep, smooth, somewhat posh-sounding tone. "Ah, Lieutantant Amanda Williams. You should call me Mr. Black. You're several hours too late to catch my new shipment, I'm afraid; it's spreading throughout my trade network as we speak. Indeed, you'd be well advised to drop the case; you're only going to find trouble if you persist. I suggest you hang the entire thing on that Mark fellow you visited just before intruding on my warehouse... Otherwise you're going to attract my ire. I know everything about you; you don't know the first thing about me. Who has the advantage here, really?"<div class="messageTextEndMarker"> </div>