The tires hummed against the wet asphalt of Brickell Avenue.

“The 2018 restructuring files,” Nathan said.

His voice was thin, competing with the sound of a distant printer or paper shredder on his end.

“I thought those were destroyed in the server migration three years ago,” I said.

“The digital ones were,” Nathan replied.

I heard the sound of heavy paper rustling, then a deep sigh.

“But Victor kept paper backups in a locked firebox behind the old architectural blueprints,” he said.

I watched the neon signs of a bank flash past through the rain.

“What is in them?” I asked.

“The original side letters,” Nathan said.

He paused, and I could hear his slow, deliberate breathing.

“The ones where he promised Brooke’s shell company a six percent finder’s fee for the offshore land acquisitions,” he said.

My stomach tightened.

“Is Evelyn there with you in Seattle?” I asked.

“No,” Nathan said. “She is still at the Miami office, finalizing the board’s emergency meeting.”

“What are you going to do with the papers?” I asked.

“I am going to scan them and upload them to Evelyn’s secure portal right now,” Nathan said.