The windows were smeared with dirt so thick that it was easier to see the reflections of the street behind him than anything inside. It looked like every other building he'd passed—empty, forgotten, reluctant to give up its secrets. But this was the place Kasim mentioned.
He crossed over, stepping around chunks of concrete and scattered debris until he stood directly in front of the door and gave it a firm pull. Nothing. He tried again with more force, but it didn't even rattle in its frame.
"Of course," he said.
He stepped back and studied the door. It figured that Kasim hadn't mentioned this part. Maybe the guy didn't know—or maybe he just didn't care enough to bring it up. Either way, Jacques wasn't about to turn back empty-handed.