Outside the door, the scratching stopped.

Then came a heavy, muffled thud, as if something solid had bumped against the steel.

Ryker took three steps forward, his boots making no sound on the floorboards.

He positioned himself to the side of the frame, out of the direct line of fire.

“They aren’t blowing it yet,” Ryker said.

“They want the drive intact,” Marco said. “And the kids.”

“They won’t get either,” Ryker said.

The laptop emitted a sharp, high-pitched beep.

The blue progress bar flashed green, and rows of directories began to cascade down the monitor.

“I’m in,” Marco said.

“What do you see?” Ryker asked.

Marco scrolled through the files, his eyes moving rapidly.

“It’s a ledger,” Marco said. “But there are medical files here too.”

“Edward Vance’s medical records?” I asked, keeping my voice low.

“Yes,” Marco said. “The official report said he died of a sudden coronary arrest.”

He clicked on a scanned document, zooming in on a toxicology report.

“This isn’t a heart attack,” Marco said. “Look at the potassium levels.”

“He was poisoned,” Ryker said.