A driver in a dark coat stood by the rear door, holding it open.

We got inside, and the door clicked shut with a heavy, solid sound.

The car moved forward immediately, tires splashing through the puddles as we entered the dark street.

I looked out the back window, but the alley was already swallowing the light of the clinic.

“Did they see us?” I asked, my voice trembling.

“It does not matter,” Vincent said, sitting back against the leather seat. “They will not find anything there now.”

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a small notebook with a black leather cover.

He handed me a silver pen from his pocket.

“Write them down,” Vincent said.

I looked at the blank page under the dim yellow light of the car’s interior.

My hands were shaking so much I could barely hold the pen.

“Start with the primary clearing account,” Vincent said.

I took a deep breath, pressing the pen to the paper to steady my fingers.

“The first one is under the name Vanguard Marine Holdings,” I said, writing the letters out in block capitals.