Apart from the peeling paint, Rauceby was immaculate.
Asbestos warning tape stretched across the passage and we noticed that the vents to the subway were taped
shut. They were obviously working in the passageways below, stripping asbestos from the hot water pipes.
We felt fairly safe.
At this point, Smorgy heard voices. Or a radio. Or something. What ever she heard, it spooked her to the
point that we aborted.
Outside, in the warm sunshine, we did a quick perimeter, expecting to find security with a walkie-talkie. But
there was no-one there.
We crept back in.