Three Fingers’ office was very different from what I expected. Rather than be a mere office, it reminded me more of a throne room.
It was a square, concrete room, probably about ten by twenty feet, with a raised ceiling and lights strung along the walls for illumination. The room still smelled of river water, though to a lesser extent than the rest of the tunnel system, and it got very quiet in here when we closed the door behind ourselves. The metal door seemed to be thick enough to block out sound from the outside, which was both interesting but also concerning. After all, if this turned out to be a trap, no one would hear us scream. I also wondered how the thick walls might affect our radio communications with the outside.
But those thoughts left my mind when I looked at the back of
