My knuckles brushed against a cold metal lever hidden behind the wood.

I pulled it.

With a soft click, the heavy frame swung outward like a door.

Behind it was a dark grey steel safe door, flush with the brickwork.

It had a digital keypad and a secondary biometric scanner.

“Do you have the code?” I asked Julianne.

She shook her head.

“No,” Julianne said. “Only Grant and Mother have the combination.”

“And the thumbprint?”

“Grant’s,” she said.

I turned to face Grant.

He was standing near the leather armchair, his face drained of color.

His suit jacket hung loosely on his shoulders.

“Grant,” I said. “Open it.”

Grant looked at his mother.

Patricia’s face was a mask of cold stone.

“Don’t do it, Grant,” Patricia said. “They have nothing.”

“We have your sister’s testimony, Patricia,” I said.

“And we have the digital signatures from the Zurich transfers.”

I looked back at Grant.

“Make it easier on yourself,” I said.

Grant did not move. He wet his dry lips with his tongue.

“I want my lawyer,” Grant said.

“You can call him from the field office,” Vance said.