Chapter 23 – Permission

It was already dark outside one of the country’s oldest state medical universities. On the third floor, in a large lecture hall, a little over thirty people were waiting: leading cardiologists, cardiac surgeons, transplant specialists, experts in advanced heart failure, intensive care, and tissue compatibility. Some had known one another for decades. Others had met only at conferences and professional committee meetings. Almost everyone in the room held a position senior enough that no one would normally summon them anywhere without an explanation. The last arrivals had been brought in about half an hour earlier. Some had been taken directly from their clinics, several had been given only a few minutes to hand their patients over to colleagues, and some had spent nearly two hours being driven in from the other side of the country. No one had been told why.

The irritation had been building steadily. Someone demanded his phone back. Someone else objected to being prevented from contacting the hospital. Several people had already stopped watching their language. Before entering, everyone had surrendered phones, tablets, laptops, smartwatches, and anything else capable of transmitting data. The entire floor was under a temporary restricted-access protocol. State security officers and police stood outside the doors. Anyone who needed the restroom was allowed out one at a time and under escort. I was supposed to start surgery in forty minutes. Two police officers escorted me out of my clinic. Do you understand what that looks like? They wouldn’t even let me call my department head. One physician approached the door for the second time and demanded to know on what authority his personal phone had been confiscated. The officer outside repeated the same answer. Your belongings will be returned after the meeting. Please wait. Everything will be explained. It only added to the noise.

I know the Minister of Health personally. If someone thinks they can drag us all in here like this and… Colleagues. The voice was not loud, but several conversations stopped at once. Professor Edward Holt rose from his seat. He was a little over sixty, with nearly forty years in cardiac surgery and more than a decade as head of the largest transplant center in the country. Most of the people in the room knew him personally. He waited until the noise dropped. We’ve spent more than half an hour discussing something we cannot currently change. We were assembled within two hours. Some of us were brought from the other side of the country. Our communications equipment was taken, the floor is closed, and state security is outside. Obviously, this is not about a scheduled operation or an ordinary meeting. Someone objected. That’s exactly why we should be demanding an explanation. Holt looked calmly in that direction. And we’ll get one. Anyone capable of arranging all this in two hours probably didn’t bring us here just to leave us without an explanation. I suggest we calm down and wait for whoever called us. Another voice came from the rows. And if I don’t intend to put up with this? I know the minister personally. Holt did not react. Then after the meeting you can ask him personally why you were here. Right now, it changes nothing. Someone gave a quiet laugh. Several people returned to their seats. The noise began to fade.

At that moment, the door opened. A very old man entered first. He looked about eighty. Short, thin, slightly stooped, with the cautious movements of a man whose age could no longer be concealed. His white hair was neatly side-parted and combed to the right. His dark suit was immaculate. In his left hand he carried an old, rigid leather briefcase with a single metal clasp. In his right, a dark felt hat he had removed upon entering the building. A second man followed, around sixty-five, tall and lean, with a straight back and closely cropped gray hair. His past, unlike the first man’s, was easy to guess. He moved little and precisely, staying slightly behind and to the right.

The old man reached the lecturer’s table and stopped. He did not sit. For several seconds, he simply looked across the room, slowly moving his gaze from the first row to the last and pausing now and then on individual faces. One physician raised a hand, preparing to speak. A woman near the aisle leaned forward. A man in the middle rows glanced toward the door and began to stand. The old man kept looking. The man pushed against the armrests, rose halfway, and for some reason sat back down. The woman opened her mouth but said nothing. Another doctor drew in a breath, clearly preparing to address the newcomers, but remained silent. A strange noise passed through the hall: chairs creaking, fabric shifting, coughing, someone’s breathing becoming faster. People moved, changed the position of their hands, turned their heads, exchanged looks. But the actions they intended to perform somehow failed to reach completion.

The old man finally spoke. Good evening. Viktor Voss. State Advisor to the President. Head of the Presidential Chancellery. Several people in the front rows immediately changed expression. Voss slowly surveyed the room once more, then placed his hat carefully on the left side of the table and set the briefcase in front of him. The metal clasp clicked softly. Viktor opened it and removed a small notebook bound in dark leather and a heavy fountain pen. For a moment, neatly arranged folders and documents were visible inside. He closed the briefcase, moved it to his right, and only then sat down. He placed the notebook in front of him. Voss opened it to a marked page, removed the cap from the pen, placed it beside him, and began reviewing notes he had already made.

Someone tried to speak again. Nothing happened. Viktor wrote something, turned a page, added several more notes, then turned his head. Henry. Yes. Green tea, if possible. Henry gave a short nod, stepped away from the table, and crossed the hall. At the door, one of the officers immediately moved toward him. Henry spoke quietly. The man listened, nodded, and disappeared into the corridor. Henry closed the door, returned, and took up the same position to Voss’s right.

Viktor did not look up once. He continued writing. The hall remained filled with a strange, noisy silence. Someone shifted repeatedly in his seat. Someone else began to turn toward a colleague several times and stopped each time before starting a conversation. One physician drew in a deep breath as if preparing to shout a question, then released it without a word. Professor Holt was no longer watching the door. He watched Voss, then the woman beside him as she failed for the second time to say something, then lowered his eyes to his own hands for several seconds.

A few minutes later, the door opened again. Henry went to it himself, accepted a cup from the officer outside, closed the door, and placed the green tea to the right of the notebook. Voss finished the line he was writing, capped the pen, lifted the cup, took a small sip, and set it back down. Only then did he look at the room. I think we can begin.

Something seemed to change with the words. One physician coughed and finally finished saying something to his neighbor. The woman in the front row turned freely in her seat. Someone raised a hand. Several people noticed the change almost simultaneously, but Voss was already looking toward the first row as though nothing unusual had happened. The chief physician of the private clinic where Elias had been taken several hours earlier sat there. Unlike most of the others, he had barely participated in the conversations while they waited. Doctor. Please explain the situation.

The chief physician stood and walked to the front. He looked at the room for several seconds before beginning. Earlier today, our clinic received Eli… The name stopped. He frowned as though he had suddenly lost a word he had already begun to pronounce and instinctively looked at Voss. Viktor remained seated calmly behind the table. We received a patient. Male, forty-five years old. Severe congenital heart disease, with multiple previous surgical interventions. Earlier today he experienced another episode of acute cardiac decompensation. We were able to stabilize him, but his remaining cardiac reserve is nearly exhausted. The next severe decompensation could happen in several months, next week, or tonight. The next time, stabilization may not be possible. The patient requires a heart transplant.

Questions came immediately. Waiting-list status? Highest allowable priority. Blood type? The chief physician answered. Required donor size range? He provided the parameters. Sensitization? High. Previous surgeries and transfusions have produced a broad spectrum of antibodies. A significant number of potential donors will be excluded before full compatibility assessment. Positive crossmatch expected in most cases? Yes. Mechanical support? Being considered as a bridge to transplantation, not a definitive solution. Total artificial heart? Theoretically, as a temporary measure. It does not remove the underlying problem.

Professor Holt had remained silent until then. Now he looked up. So the treatment itself is known. The question isn’t what to do. It’s whether a compatible organ becomes available before the next critical decompensation. The chief physician nodded. Exactly. There is no suitable donor now? No. Holt leaned back in his chair. Then the case is severe, but medically clear. We can expand the national and international search, prepare transportation, use mechanical support, work on desensitization. But with this immunologic profile and this little time, standard procedure cannot guarantee that a suitable heart will become available when it is needed. Several people nodded. No one disagreed.

Voss ran the tip of his pen along one of the lines in his notebook. What about nonstandard options?

Holt stopped. The pause was brief, but Viktor noticed it. There are options, the professor finally said. But at that point we begin weighing possible benefit against very serious risk. Viktor looked at his watch. Those are exactly the options I want to hear. Twenty minutes. Keep only what can be started now. Not future research and not technology that does not yet exist. I need solutions for this patient in his current condition.

The room immediately came alive. Several specialists moved closer together. One cardiac surgeon went to the board. Within the first few minutes, seven possible directions had appeared. They argued about mechanical circulatory support, a total artificial heart, different desensitization protocols, broader immunologic criteria, experimental programs abroad, and ways to extend the viable transport time of a donor heart. Holt offered almost nothing himself. He listened, asked short questions, and gradually eliminated whatever failed under scrutiny. Voss did not interfere. He drank his green tea, made notes from time to time, crossed out several lines, and started them again.

Twenty minutes later, Holt remained at the board. Only two of the seven points had not been crossed out. If we remove everything that cannot be implemented quickly enough, I would keep two directions. First, transition to mechanical circulatory support as early as possible, with the potential later use of a total artificial heart as a bridge. It does not solve the problem, but it may buy us time. Second, emergency desensitization combined with an expanded international search and reconsideration of the acceptable immunologic risk. The complication rate will increase, but so will the pool of potential donors. Voss asked, Which is preferable? Holt answered immediately. They are not mutually exclusive. Both can begin now? Yes.

Viktor wrote two short entries and marked them one and two. Then he lowered his eyes farther down the page. Several versions of the same sentence were already there. One had been crossed out entirely. Several words had been replaced in the second. He read the third once more, slowly, as though checking the precision of every term. Good. Then one final question.

He read directly from the notebook. Is anyone here aware of any method, technology, material, biological entity, or observation that currently exists and could potentially be relevant to the problem before us, but that you consciously excluded from the discussion because there is no clinical protocol, the available data are insufficient, there are legal restrictions, or you personally do not consider it an acceptable solution?

The hall went silent. Someone lowered his eyes. Someone frowned. Several people exchanged glances. Voss waited. An intensive-care specialist spoke first and named an experimental protocol used at a foreign center. Holt asked several questions. The method existed, but required equipment and preparation that were not currently available. A transplant specialist answered second, mentioning an experimental antibody-reduction protocol before transplantation. Holt knew the published work and immediately identified its limitations. The third answer came from a cardiac surgeon from another city. He described an ex vivo heart perfusion system capable of extending the viable transport window for a donor organ. Useful, but it still did not create a suitable donor.

Silence returned. One man in the fourth row remained completely still. A surgeon from the Center’s medical block. He had contributed only a few times during the discussion and had attracted almost no attention. Now his fingers tightened around his pen. He looked toward Holt, then lowered his eyes. Viktor’s gaze settled on him.

The surgeon intended to remain silent.

He did not.

There is one more observation. Holt turned immediately. The surgeon continued. It is not a treatment method. And at this point there is no basis for assuming it could be used for transplantation at all. Several hours ago, our Center discovered a fragment of cardiac tissue that has continued autonomous biological activity after the death of the organism.

The marker in Holt’s hand stopped.

Voss noticed.

Holt asked, What exactly do you mean by autonomous activity? The surgeon answered, The tissue continues to contract. It has anchored itself in other tissue, formed its own vascular supply, and is drawing resources from the surrounding tissue to maintain itself. After the organism’s own cardiac activity had ceased? The organism no longer had its own heart when we found it.

The hall became completely silent. Holt had turned fully toward the surgeon. How long has the activity continued? Several hours. It was still active when I last examined it. Signs of necrosis? Not to the extent we should already be seeing.

Holt slowly lowered the marker. Viktor was no longer watching the surgeon. He was watching the professor. Professor? Holt kept his eyes on the man in the fourth row for several more seconds. I want to see the data.

That was enough for Voss. He looked down at the notebook, drew a short line beneath the first two entries, and wrote: 3. Where is the material? The surgeon hesitated again. Viktor raised his eyes. At the Center. Does it still exist? Yes. Documentation? Yes.

Voss made one final note and capped his pen.

Three directions.

Two had been selected by the doctors.

The third had been selected by him.

Voss looked at the number three for several more seconds, then turned toward Henry. This doctor is coming with us. Do not return his communications equipment. Phone, watch, everything else goes into a separate case. No communication until I authorize it. Put him in our car. Henry gave a short nod. Yes. The surgeon immediately looked up. I at least need to warn the Center. They are still working with the material, and if I simply… The sentence stopped. He fell silent and stared ahead for several seconds, as though unable to understand why he could not finish his own thought. Viktor answered calmly. That is precisely why no one needs to be warned.

He turned toward Holt. Professor, give Henry everything required for the first two directions. Specialists, institutions, contacts, equipment. Anything needed to begin immediate verification. Holt nodded. All right. Voss looked at Henry again. One team for the first direction. Another for the second. I want results on both by eleven tonight. Understood. We are going to the Center.

Henry approached Holt. Professor, I’ll need specific addresses and the people each team should work with. I’ll provide them. Henry crossed to the door, opened it, and quietly called over one of the officers outside. A few short instructions. A nod. The officer disappeared down the corridor. Henry then indicated the surgeon. Please. The man remained seated for several more seconds before standing. Two officers approached from outside but did not take hold of him. His phone, watch, and the other devices confiscated before the meeting were already being separated from the belongings of the other participants and placed inside a small hard case. Henry waited until the lock clicked shut. Keep the case separate. The doctor goes in the middle car.

The surgeon looked at Holt, then at Voss. You don’t even know what is there. Viktor replied, That is why we are going. Henry indicated the door. The surgeon left with two officers.

Voss waited for the door to close and turned back to the hall. Thank you for your work. Professor Holt will remain for a few more minutes. Everyone else will receive their belongings once the exit procedure is complete. Several people had already begun exchanging looks, but Viktor continued. Everything said and everything that happened in this room tonight is restricted information. The identity of the patient, his condition, the options discussed, and any other information obtained here are not to be discussed or communicated to any third party without specific authorization. He paused and slowly surveyed the rows. I assume there is no need to explain the consequences of a leak to people at your level.

This time, no one objected.

Voss closed the notebook, placed the pen in the briefcase first and then the notebook, checked the documents, and closed the metal clasp. Only then did he stand, take the briefcase in his left hand, lift the hat from the table with his right, and place it carefully on his head, adjusting the brim with two fingers. Henry was already waiting by the door. Good night, ladies and gentlemen.

Viktor Voss left the hall. Henry followed. Outside, the surgeon was already waiting between two state security officers. A little farther down the corridor, one of Henry’s men carried the locked case containing his communications devices. Viktor passed without stopping.

A few minutes later, the cars left the university grounds.

The third direction was at the Center.

About half an hour later, three black cars turned off the main road and stopped one after another outside the restricted-access Development Center. Two state security officers emerged from the first car and two more from the last. Viktor Voss stepped out of the middle car, adjusted his hat, and took the old leather briefcase in his left hand. Henry followed. The Center surgeon emerged from the other side. No one held him, but one officer immediately took position beside him. A medical team remained with the third vehicle, along with transport equipment prepared in case the material actually had to be moved. Two security officers went ahead. Viktor, Henry, and the surgeon followed. Two more closed the formation.

A Center security officer was on duty behind the inner desk. Number One stood beside him. He had finished teaching a tactical training session and stayed near the post, discussing changes in the schedule with the guard. Their conversation stopped when the outer doors opened. Number One looked at the arrivals once: two people in front, two behind, a very old man in the center, and slightly behind and to his right, a man around sixty-five with a straight back and the movements of someone long accustomed to weapons and orders. Between them walked a surgeon from the medical block. No one looked around. No one asked where to go. The group had not come to find out what was happening. They already knew what they wanted. One of the officers approached the desk, presented identification, and placed a document in front of the guard. Presidential Chancellery. Authorized inspection. We need to see the director of the Center. The guard quickly reviewed the document. Was the visit cleared in advance? No. Then I need to contact administration and obtain authorization for access. You can contact them afterward. Open the inner access point. The guard hesitated for several seconds and looked at Number One. Number One assessed the delegation once more. Open it. I’ll take them.

The guard placed his access card against the reader. At the same time, one finger beneath the desk pressed a second button. No alarm sounded. A silent notification of unscheduled high-risk access simply appeared inside the Center’s administrative block. The glass doors slid apart. Number One stepped ahead. Follow me. The group passed the post. Henry stopped almost immediately and looked at one of his men. Entrance and transport team. Stay here. The officer nodded and took a position from which he could see both the inner doors and part of the parking area. Several steps later, Henry indicated the internal security post to another man. You stay here. The officer remained beside the desk. Number One said nothing. He took out his phone and sent Giselle a single message. The President’s people are in the Center. Her response appeared almost immediately. No action. Observe. Number One put the phone away and continued leading them deeper inside.

They moved along the central corridor. Viktor walked calmly without increasing his pace. Henry remained slightly behind and to the right. The surgeon said nothing. Several minutes later, they reached the medical block. Brightly lit rooms, equipment, and medical staff were visible through the wide glass partition. Voss stopped. The material is here? The surgeon looked through the glass. In the restricted section farther inside. Is it still viable? It was when I left. Viktor looked at Henry. Henry turned to the third security officer. Stay at the entrance. No one goes in and nothing comes out until further orders. The officer took position beside the medical-block door. The surgeon looked at Voss. Without the director’s authorization, they still won’t give you access to the material. Viktor replied calmly, That is why we are going to the director. They continued.

Almost at the same moment, the Center’s outer doors opened again. Gobby and German were returning from an assignment. German had noticed the three black cars outside but had not attached much importance to them. People they did not know came to the Center regularly. Gobby did not seem to notice the cars at all. They passed the inner post and entered the main corridor. Gobby saw Number One first. Oh, Instructor. Number One heard him and turned his head slightly. His eyes met German’s for a second before he looked forward again. Logic registered the signal: do not interfere. Gobby noticed nothing. Why’s he so serious? He kept walking.

German was already studying the group ahead: an old man, a second man to his right, a Center surgeon, security distributed along the route, Number One personally escorting them. Direction: administrative block. German increased his pace slightly. He had no intention of interfering. He only wanted to close the distance and identify who Number One was escorting. The next step did not happen. German stopped while Gobby continued walking. There was no weakness. Sensation remained intact. His muscles responded. His balance was normal. German formed the intention again: move closer to the group and continue observing. His body remained where it was. Logic changed the objective: do not approach, maintain distance, simply follow and determine where they were going. Nothing.

Gobby walked several more yards before noticing that German was no longer beside him. He turned. What are you doing? Come on. German looked at him. Gobby stood normally. No sign of any effect. Ahead, Number One disappeared around a corner. The surgeon followed, then Viktor, Henry, and the last security officer. Within seconds, the entire group was gone from view. German took a step. It worked. He stopped and took another. No restriction. German? Coming. He caught up with Gobby while Logic was already recording the sequence: intent to approach the group, action not completed; intent to follow the group, action not completed; normal motor function preserved; Gobby continued moving without restriction; effect ended after the group disappeared around the corner. Source unknown. Mechanism unknown. Connection to a specific person not established. Possible dependence on distance, visual contact, or presence of the source. Insufficient data. Record. German looked once more at the empty corner. Gobby asked, What’s there? Nothing. They continued walking.

The delegation was already approaching the administrative block. The silent warning from the entrance post had reached the director. The first door led into the secretary’s reception area. The secretary was seated behind her desk but stood immediately when the group appeared. The second door led to the director’s office. A Center security officer was already stationed outside it. Henry stopped before the reception area and looked at the last remaining officer from his group. Here. The man took position beside the Center guard. From that point, only Viktor, Henry, the surgeon, and Number One continued. The secretary looked first at Number One and then at the unfamiliar delegation. The director is expecting you.

Number One opened the office door and let Viktor enter. Voss went in first, followed by Henry and the surgeon. Number One entered last and closed the door. Henry’s officer remained in the reception area beside the Center guard. The director rose from behind his desk. The head of the Center’s security service sat to one side and did not stand. Henry remained near the closed door. The surgeon took an empty chair beside the desk. Number One walked silently to the panoramic window and stopped slightly apart from everyone else. The director said, Come in. We were already notified.

Viktor slowly surveyed the office and approached the desk. He removed his hat and placed it carefully to his left. The briefcase went to his right. The metal clasp clicked. The notebook and fountain pen came out. Viktor arranged them in front of him with the same care he had shown several hours earlier in the lecture hall, sat down, and only then raised his eyes. Viktor Voss. State Advisor to the President. Head of the Presidential Chancellery. He opened the notebook to a marked page. According to information received by my office, the Center’s medical block is holding a fragment of cardiac tissue that remains autonomously viable outside its original organism. By order of the President, the material and all related medical documentation are to be transferred for further examination. We are here to carry out that order.

The director looked at the document in front of him. I understand the content of your order, Mr. Voss. But the Center is under the direct administration of the city. I report to Mark and do not have the authority to independently transfer materials, biological specimens, documentation, or any other objects held under the Center’s security regime. Viktor listened without interrupting. The director continued. That applies to the Center as a whole and to individual materials, objects, and people located here. I can request Mark’s instructions immediately. Until I receive his authorization, I cannot initiate the transfer of the cardiac tissue or give you access to the related documentation.

Viktor looked at the director for several seconds. To one side, the head of security shifted slightly. His right hand moved slowly toward his jacket and stopped. He frowned and tried to continue the movement, then leaned forward, intending to stand, but remained in the chair. His lips parted as though he were about to speak, but no words came. Viktor watched him calmly, then looked at Henry. That was enough.

Henry stepped away from the door and walked toward the head of security without hurry. The man saw him coming. He tried again to stand, draw his weapon, at least push the chair backward, but none of the actions reached completion. Henry came alongside him and knocked the chair over with one sharp push, sending the man to the floor with it. The man hit the floor hard. The pistol remained in its holster. Henry did not even attempt to remove it. He drew the old SIG Sauer P226 from beneath his jacket, reversed it in his hand, and struck the man twice across the face with the grip. After the second blow, the body went slack. Blood streaked his face. Henry straightened and immediately leveled the pistol at the director of the Center.

The office went silent. The director had gone pale. The surgeon sat frozen in his chair. Viktor had never left his own. Number One remained beside the window. He had not flinched when the chair hit the floor, had not changed the position of his hands, had not made a single movement when Henry drew the weapon. He had seen everything and done nothing. Henry kept the director, the surgeon, and the doorway under control. His eyes paused on the man by the window for barely a moment before moving on.

Viktor noticed. He had known Henry too long. Henry did not forget people in a room and did not leave potential threats unaccounted for. Yet somehow the man by the window had not entered that category at all. Voss looked at Number One more carefully. Number One met his gaze calmly. No anger. No fear. No intention to interfere. That was not even the strange part. Until that moment, Viktor himself had barely perceived the man as a threat.

He returned his attention to the director. You will come with us while the circumstances surrounding the obstruction of a presidential order are investigated. The material will be seized. The director looked at the unconscious head of security, then at the pistol pointed at him, and said nothing. Viktor turned toward the surgeon. You will prepare the material for transport. I cannot initiate its transfer without the director’s authorization. Viktor answered, You will not. The decision to transfer it has already been made. Your responsibility is to ensure that the material remains viable during transport. The surgeon looked at the director. He remained motionless.

Viktor closed the notebook. Henry. Yes. Begin.

Henry put the pistol back beneath his jacket and opened the door. The Center guard in the reception area was already on the floor. When the crash of the overturned chair had come through the closed door, followed by two heavy impacts, the guard had immediately reached for his weapon. Henry’s officer had not waited for an order. He caught the guard’s arm before the pistol cleared the holster, turned him, took him to the floor, and restrained him. The weapon already lay to one side. The secretary stood behind her desk with one hand pressed over her mouth. Henry assessed the situation with a single glance. Everything had been done correctly. No injuries. Then he looked toward the surgeon. Medical block. Bring in the transport team.

The order moved down the chain. Several minutes later, the two medical specialists who had remained with the vehicles entered the Center with a transport module and the autonomous support system. The officer stationed at the medical block allowed them through. The surgeon went with them. He no longer argued, but handled the procedure himself: checking the condition of the tissue, the artificial-circulation parameters, temperature, and nutrient supply to the surrounding tissue before beginning the transfer into the transport module. Viktor’s people did not interfere with the medical work. Their task was to remove the material while keeping it viable.

Viktor, meanwhile, calmly packed his belongings. The pen went into the briefcase first, then the notebook. He checked the documents and closed the metal clasp. He stood, took the briefcase in his left hand, lifted the hat from the desk with his right, and put it on. The director stood opposite him. Please. He left without handcuffs. Henry’s officer from the reception area took position beside him. Henry walked beside Viktor. Number One followed the group as far as the medical block without taking any action. Giselle’s instruction had not changed: no action, only observe.

Preparation took several more minutes. The transport module was sealed only after the surgeon confirmed that all parameters were stable. Ready. Henry said, Move it. The officer who had been guarding the medical block took position on the director’s other side, and the group started toward the exit. The remaining men rejoined them in reverse order: first the officer at the internal security post, then the one controlling the entrance and transport team. No one else from Center security was touched. The surgeon walked beside the module. The director moved between two state security officers. Viktor and Henry walked ahead.

At the inner doors, Number One stopped. Viktor continued for several more steps, then unexpectedly turned around. For several seconds, he looked at him. Number One stood calmly, without tension, anger, or any visible desire to stop them. Just as calmly as he had stood throughout everything in the office. Viktor said nothing.

The outer doors opened. The transport module was loaded into the third vehicle, and the surgeon took a seat beside the medical team. The director was placed in the rear seat of the middle car. Viktor removed his hat before getting into the same vehicle and set the briefcase beside him. Henry took the front passenger seat.

A minute later, the engines started. The three black cars left the Center one after another.

Number One waited until the last lights disappeared around the turn before taking out his phone. He called Giselle. She answered immediately. Speak. They left. Anyone hurt? One. Head of security. Unconscious. A short pause followed. The director? They took him. The material? Number One looked through the glass doors at the empty parking lot. That too. Understood.

The call ended.