“He is trying to move sixteen million dollars to an offshore account in the Caymans,” Marcus added.

I looked at the clock.

It was one-thirty-five.

“Rachel has to make it,” I muttered to myself.

“I will hold the queue as long as I can,” Marcus said.

“But if the compliance system flags a delay without the hard copy, I will face an internal audit.”

“I understand,” I said. “Just give me forty-five minutes.”

“I’ll do my best,” Marcus said and hung up.

I set the phone down on the bed sheet.

A bead of sweat rolled down my temple, stinging the edge of my bandaged cheek.

The hallway outside my room became noisy.

I heard heavy footsteps and voices raising.

“You can’t go in there, sir,” a nurse’s voice said.

“I am his legal representative, and I have a court order,” a man’s voice replied.

It wasn’t Vance this time.

It was a voice I hadn’t heard in years, but recognized instantly.

It was Arthur Pendelton, Ethan’s criminal defense attorney.

The door to my room flew open.

Pendelton stood there, holding a manila envelope.