“The documents arrived at our office via courier ten minutes ago,” she said. “Our senior partner is already reviewing the tax files.”

“And the injunction?” I asked.

“It will be filed before the courts open tomorrow morning,” she said.

“Thank you, Victoria,” I said.

I ended the call and removed the battery from the phone.

I slid the pieces into my pocket.

The van slowed down as we approached the entrance to the underground parking garage.

The concrete walls were grey and wet.

Tomás steered the vehicle into a private bay near the back elevator.

He turned off the engine.

The sudden silence in the van was heavy.

“Are we safe here?” I asked.

“Yes, Señora,” Tomás said. “The lease on this space is under a corporate name. It cannot be traced to Horizonte.”

“And the children?”

“They are already upstairs with the nanny,” he said. “They had some hot chocolate. They are asleep.”

I grabbed my leather bag and opened the heavy door of the van.

The air in the garage was cool and smelled of exhaust and damp concrete.