“He is going to blame me for the failed field tests.”

“He is going to say I took the money.”

The old man’s jaw tightened.

“Your father was a good man,” he said softly.

“He loved this country.”

“Then help me clear his name, and mine,” I said.

Miller walked over to a heavy steel safe in the corner of the room.

It was an old dial-combination model, scratched and dented from decades of use.

He stood with his back to me as he spun the dial.

The heavy clicks echoed in the silent room.

I waited, my hands clenched inside my coat pockets.

My phone vibrated against my hip.

I pulled it out and looked at the screen.

It was a text message from an unknown number.

*Leave the building now.*

I stared at the words, the screen casting a pale light on my face.

Behind me, the safe door swung open with a heavy metallic groan.

“I found the ledger,” Miller said, his voice trembling.

I turned slowly, ignoring the warning on my phone.

Miller was holding a thick, leather-bound logbook with a faded gold seal on the cover.