Dr. Kenneth looked at the folder hiding the envelope, then at the door, and finally back at me.

He opened a bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a heavy brass key ring.

“If Julian Bellamy finds out I spoke to you, I am a dead man,” he said, his voice shaking.

“But I cannot keep this secret anymore.”

He stood up, his knees cracking in the quiet office.

“Follow me,” he said.

He led us out of the office and down a narrower, darker hallway that smelled of damp concrete and rust.

We descended a flight of steep metal stairs, our footsteps echoing loudly in the enclosed space.

At the bottom of the stairs was a heavy, reinforced steel door with a digital keypad.

Dr. Kenneth punched in a long code, his fingers trembling so hard he missed a digit and had to start over.

The lock clicked, and he pushed the heavy door open.

Cold air rushed out to meet us, smelling of old dust and ozone.

A single row of dim lights lit a long corridor lined with iron-barred doors.