“And there is another fifty thousand waiting for you if you tell us what we need to know.”

The room went completely silent except for the faint, steady hum of the heating vent in the corner.

Dr. Kenneth did not touch the envelope, but he did not push it away either.

His fingers twitched against his leather desk pad.

“Bribery of a medical official is a serious crime,” Kenneth whispered, his eyes darting toward the closed office door behind us.

“Only if someone is listening,” Charles replied.

“And tonight, the only people in this building are you, your receptionist, and patients who cannot speak for themselves.”

Dr. Kenneth swallowed hard, his collar tightening against his neck.

He reached out slowly, his fingertips brushing the edge of the paper envelope.

He pulled it toward himself, sliding it quickly under a blue folder.

“What is the name of the patient you are looking for?” he asked, his voice barely audible.

“David Carter,” I said, my heart hammering against my ribs.

“He was a scientist. He supposedly died in a car accident ten years ago.”