TEN MINUTES LATER, we veered into the driveway of a gated, eight-story, off-white brick building in downtown San Antonio. Anson lowered his window as he stopped at the guard hut. A security guard stepped out, then waved Anson through as if he knew him. Anson drove inside and toward the parking garage, where he found a spot close to the entrance. We exited the car, entered the building, and walked past a security station in an empty lobby before taking the elevator to the fifth floor. The elevator dinged, the doors slid apart, and we stepped into a foyer where a pair of large glass double doors met us.
“I got it,” Jessica said, while lifting a card from her pocket and waving it across a small square panel next to the double doors.
The doors clicked, and Jessica pulled open one side.
“C’m
