In a monolithic glass skyscraper, in a small cluttered room, underneath a dusty coat rack, I found the reported safe that matched numbers with my strange key. I noticed a tiny camera embedded in the far wall at eye level. I was too curious about the safe to make any fuss, anyway if they wanted my identity, they had it now. Out of habit perhaps, I dropped low and ducked under the dark wool coats, then retrieved my flashlight and the key from my pocket. One-five-five. Or one-five-seven maybe. The key turned. The safe's interior shined like plastic in my light's glow, shadowless and empty. I reached in to the back finding nothing. However as ran my fingers over the safe's ceiling, I recovered a small envelope glued there. I leaned back on my heels and paused, examining it. I unwrapped its string and let the contents fall into my palm. Two quarters and an odd, thicker than normal, dime.