"This way, please."


    Duncan was already waiting in the courtyard, his hand gesturing for Karter and the others to follow. Hepletely ignored Jose and hispanion at the front gate, leading the group straight through the garden and into the back of the house. Once inside, they slipped through a rear door and climbed the stairs to the second floor, heading for the study.


    Hank stood at the window, peeking through a narrow gap in the curtains, watching for any sign of movement outside. The old house had been empty for ages. Only the main building had lights on, the rest of the courtyard was lost in darkness. If Hank hadn''t caught a quick sh of light at the front gate earlier, he would have never guessed someone was standing guard out there.


    He heard footsteps and spun around. Karter caught the sh of panic in Hank''s eyes right away.


    "Mr. Meyer, it''s alright. Mr. Wiles sent us," Karter said quietly.


    Hank let out a small breath and pointed at a metal box on the desk. "It''s right there. The lock isplicated. Thanks foring."


    The box hadn''t been so big and conspicuous, or he would have tried to sneak it out himself instead of calling Matthew for help.


    The two guys who came in with Karter shared a look, then stepped up to the desk. The box was about the size of aputer monitor, old and heavy, with a mechanical lock that looked impossible to pick.


    "I''ll give it a shot," one of them said, pulling out a set of lock-picking tools. His fingers moved quickly and confidently.


    Hank hovered nearby, tense and silent. Karter leaned against the doorframe, his eyes glued to the hallway, listening for any sound from outside.


    Minutes crawled by. The only thing breaking the silence was the faint click and scrape of metal tools against the lock.


    Suddenly, there was a louder click. "It''s open," the technician whispered.


    He carefully lifted the lid. Inside, the box was lined with deep red velvet, and three items sat nestled in the fabric.


    First was a thick ledger. On the cover, in neat handwriting, was the title: "The Voyager Project." Hank picked it up, flipping through the first page. Every transaction was there, clear as day-dates, amounts) names. Nothing was left out.


    Next was a partnership contract signed by both Nathaniel and Bailey. The agreement spelled out exactly how the profits would be spit and the confidentiality use was brutal. Anyone reading it would feeka chill run down their spine.


    Thest item was a faded sheet of paper, yellowed with age, listing over a dozen names. Next to each name was an organ-no clue whether these people were donors or recipients.


    The second technician pulled out a scanner and started making fast digital copies of the ledger and the list.


    Just then, Hank noticed something odd under the velvet. He carefully pulled the fabric back and found a folded slip of paper The note was old and worn, the writing almost faded away, but he could just make out a partial address: "West Side... old pier... warehouse thrée..." The rest was smudged and unreadable.


    Hank stared at the note, brow furrowed. What could this ce be?


    He was about to take a closer look when someone knocked at the door. "Mr. Hank, there''s something going on outside!"


    Hank''s heart hammered in his chest.


    Karter moved instantly, crossing to the window and pulling back a corner of the curtain. Shadows flickered across the yard. A crowd of people was racing toward the house.


    "Is it Bailey''s people or Nathaniel''s?" Karter asked, his voice tense.


    "I... I don''t know," Hank stammered. He stuffed the note into his pocket and turned to the technician. "Are you done copying?"