Alton Lewis’s office was a stark, no-nonsense space—bare walls, a single window with blinds half-closed, and the faint hum of the city filtering through. Alton, the ever-stoic secret agent, leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed tightly over his chest as his eyes bore into Bjorn. The air was heavy with suspicion, and the flickering desk lamp cast shadows across the faces of the three men seated at the table.
Alton leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed as he looked at Bjorn, who sat across from him with Ivan. The room was tense, filled with the weight of the information being discussed. Henry stood behind them, his eyes fixed and his posture rigid.
Alton shook his head, his expression a mix of disbelief and concern. "So, you think now that Neil Holland is hiding not one but two w
