"Very creative," Shepard says, no more impressed than Archangel is. She tracks the Janitor as he ducks inside the building he'd just been freshening up; satisfying, as always, to watch him work, "Let's go."

The building is, at first glance, ordinary. It's plain, but clean, with black-painted counters and potted plants and secretarial staff that seems attentive without being overbearing. There's a security officer on the wall nearest the door, sword in hand, stiffly at attention despite the hour and the lack of need— even his buttons are polished to a mirror-shine, and this is clearly a post he has great pride in. Everything else seems calm, businesslike, unexciting... It is a tax office, after all.

"You want to take the lead? Somebody in here's deliberately trying not to get my attention. That's about as far as I can tell."