Whitney Sawyer.
He closed the book.
Then he stood.
“Who is it?”
No answer.
He reached beneath the table and pulled out an old revolver.
He moved toward the door.
Another knock.
This time, a voice came through.
“Thomas?”
The old man froze.
He knew that voice.
“Open the door.”
Thomas slowly lowered the weapon.
He unlocked the door.
A woman stood outside.
Claire Morgan.
Thomas stared at her.
“You shouldn't have come.”
“I had to.”
“Where is she?”
“Safe.”
Thomas exhaled.
“For now.”
Claire stepped inside.
“You need to leave.”
Thomas shook his head.
“I can't.”
“You don't have a choice anymore.”
He looked at the ledger.
“She has the box.”
Claire nodded.
“And Victor?”
“She's with him.”
Thomas closed his eyes.
“That complicates everything.”
“It was already complicated.”
“No.”
He looked at Claire.
“Victor cannot be trusted.”
“I know.”
“Does she?”
Claire hesitated.
“She heard the recording.”
Thomas's expression changed.
“Which part?”
“The warning.”
“About Victor?”
“Yes.”
Thomas sat down.
For the first time, his hands began to shake.
“Then she knows too much.”
Claire looked at him.
“She deserves the truth.”
Thomas shook his head.
“She deserves a chance to live.”
“She can't live if everyone keeps lying to her.”
Thomas stared at the ledger.
“You don't understand what happened.”
“Then tell me.”
He didn't answer.
Claire waited.
Finally, Thomas whispered:
“I should have protected her father.”
Claire's expression softened.
“David knew what he was doing.”
“No.”
Thomas shook his head.
“He was young.”
“He was twenty-nine.”
“He trusted the wrong people.”
“So did Li Wei.”
Thomas looked away.
“And so did Evelyn.”
Claire sighed.
“We're running out of time.”
Thomas looked at her.
“Why?”
“Because Gerald knows Whitney has the box.”
Thomas stood.
“How?”
“Someone saw her leave the apartment.”
Thomas's face went pale.
“Then they know.”
“Yes.”
“Does Gerald know about me?”
Claire hesitated.
“Not yet.”
Thomas nodded.
“Then that's what we need to protect.”
Claire looked at the ledger.
“Or expose.”
Thomas stared at her.
“You know what happens if that ledger becomes public.”
“Yes.”
“People will come after her.”
“They already are.”
Thomas had no answer.
Meanwhile, across the city, Whitney sat inside Victor's car.
The metal box rested on her lap.
She had not spoken for almost ten minutes.
Victor drove silently.
Rain began tapping against the windshield.
Finally, Whitney broke the silence.
“Where are we going?”
“To a safe location.”
“That's not an answer.”
Victor glanced at her.
“An old warehouse.”
Whitney frowned.
“Why a warehouse?”
“Because nobody goes there.”
“That sounds reassuring.”
Victor almost smiled.
“You're becoming more like your grandmother every minute.”
Whitney looked out the window.
“Stop saying that.”
“Why?”
“Because I barely knew her.”
Victor was silent.
Whitney continued.
“Everyone keeps talking about her like she was some secret agent.”
“She wasn't.”
“Then what was she?”
Victor thought for a moment.
“Brave.”
Whitney looked at him.
“She was a cleaner.”
“She was a translator.”
“She was poor.”
“She was determined.”
“She was afraid.”
Victor's hands tightened on the steering wheel.
“Yes.”
Whitney looked at him.
“You knew her well.”
“Yes.”
“How well?”
Victor didn't answer.
“Were you there when Li Wei died?”
The car became silent.
Whitney watched him carefully.
Victor finally said:
“Yes.”
Her heart dropped.
“What happened?”
“I wasn't supposed to be there.”
“But you were.”
“Yes.”
“Then tell me.”
Victor shook his head.
“Not yet.”
Whitney laughed bitterly.
“Everyone says that.”
“Because you're not ready.”
“You don't get to decide that.”
Victor glanced at her.
“You're right.”
He turned his eyes back to the road.
“I don't.”
Whitney opened the metal box.
She pulled out one of the old photographs.
Her father stood beside Li Wei.
Victor glanced at it.
“That was taken three days before Li Wei died.”
“You knew my father.”
“Yes.”
“What was his name?”
“David Sawyer.”
Whitney stared at the photograph.
“Why did my grandmother never tell me about him?”
Victor's voice became quieter.
“Because she believed he was dead.”
Whitney looked up.
“What?”
“She thought he died.”
“But you just told me he's alive.”
“I know.”
“Then what happened?”
Victor didn't answer.
Whitney's voice hardened.
“You've been lying to me since the beginning.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I needed to know whether you were being watched.”
“What?”
“If I told you everything, someone would know I had told you.”
Whitney shook her head.
“That makes no sense.”
“It will.”
The car turned into an industrial district.
Victor drove toward an abandoned warehouse.
Whitney noticed a second vehicle following them.
“Victor.”
He looked in the mirror.
His expression changed.
“Don't panic.”
“Who's behind us?”
“I don't know.”
The vehicle accelerated.
Victor pressed the gas.
Whitney grabbed the dashboard.
“Are you sure this is a safe location?”
“No.”
“What?”
“I said don't panic.”
“That isn't helping!”
Victor turned sharply.
The car behind them followed.
Whitney looked back.
Two men were inside.
One raised a phone.
Then Victor suddenly turned into a narrow alley.
The pursuing vehicle passed.
Victor killed the headlights.
They waited in darkness.
After thirty seconds, the other vehicle slowed at the end of the street.
Then continued.
Whitney exhaled.
Victor restarted the engine.
“Now,” he said, “we're going somewhere else.”
“Where?”
“To meet your father.”
Whitney froze.
“What?”
Victor looked at her.
“He contacted me.”
“When?”
“Twenty minutes ago.”
“You didn't tell me?”
“I wasn't sure the message was genuine.”
Whitney stared.
“You know where he is?”
“Yes.”
“Is he really alive?”
“Yes.”
“Then take me to him.”
Victor nodded.
The meeting took place in an old bookstore.
It was closed.
The lights were off.
Victor unlocked the back door.
Whitney entered.
The smell of old paper filled the air.
She walked through the narrow aisles.
Then she saw him.
An elderly Black man stood near the front window.
His hair was almost completely gray.
He held a cane in one hand.