The police station was quieter than usual. Outside, traffic flowed at its normal pace, but inside Volkov's office, the atmosphere was different.

  They had brought in physical boxes from the municipal archives. Dust, old folders, forgotten contracts.

  Novak sat in front of the computer, cross-referencing historical data.

  "I found the origin of Helix Urban Group," he said without taking his eyes off the screen. "It didn't start as a hospital."

  Volkov looked up from a yellowed folder.

  "No."

  Novak turned the monitor toward him.

  "Fifteen years ago, it was just a mid-sized construction company. Urban infrastructure, bridges, industrial buildings."

  Volkov began reviewing the printed reports.

  "And it had problems."

  Novak nodded.

  "Many. Collapses, structural failures, explosions on construction sites. Civil lawsuits."

  Volkov flipped through several pages calmly.

  "Here," he said, pointing to an underlined line. Three serious accidents in less than two years.

  Novak read quickly.

  "In all of them, there were survivors."

  "And families," Volkov added.

  Novak looked at him.

  “That’s true. The lawsuits were substantial. Millions in settlements. Prolonged medical expenses. Permanent disability benefits.”

  Volkov slowly closed the folder.

  “Helix paid because they had to. Because there were wives. Children. Parents demanding answers.”

  Novak cross-referenced more data.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  “After that… internal restructuring. Change of management. And three years later… they acquired a stake in San Elías Hospital.”

  Volkov was silent for a few seconds.

  “They didn’t buy it by chance.”

  Novak frowned.

  “Do you think the hospital was a strategic investment?”

  Volkov nodded slightly.

  “Not just for business. For control.”

  Novak resumed typing quickly.

  “Wait… there’s something more recent here.”

  Volkov looked up.

  “What did you find?”

  “In the last five years, most of the workers Helix has hired for high-risk projects are foreigners.”

  Volkov moved closer.

  “Legal foreigners?”

  “Yes. But temporary. Short-term contracts. No family registered in the country. No dependents.”

  Silence fell again.

  “No one to complain,” Volkov murmured.

  Novak turned slowly toward him.

  “Marek… that means if something happens to them…”

  “No significant legal pressure,” Volkov finished. “No wives demanding explanations. No children in court. Just a temporary worker.”

  Novak leaned back in his chair.

  “And if they survive an accident…”

  Volkov completed the thought:

  “They’re transferred to San Elías.”

  Novak took a deep breath.

  "And if they remember too much…"

  Volkov held his gaze.

  "They die without a solid identity. Simple case. Filed."

  Novak ran his hands through his hair.

  "This isn't improvised. It's a model."

  Volkov picked up another file.

  "Look at this. After the first accidents, Helix created a 'corporate medical support' foundation."

  Novak reviewed the document.

  "The foundation covers hospital expenses… exclusively at partner facilities."

  "Saint Elias," Volkov said.

  Novak looked at him with concern.

  "It's almost perfect. If a foreign worker dies, there's no close family demanding an independent autopsy. If they survive, they're medically monitored."

  Volkov closed the folder.

  "And if they talk…"

  Novak finished the sentence in a low voice:

  "He doesn't talk for long."

  A heavy silence filled the office.

  Novak returned to the screen.

  "There's something else. In the early years, before they hired foreigners, lawsuits almost bankrupted Helix."

  Volkov nodded.

  "They learned."

  Novak looked at him intently.

  "Do you think the accidents are still negligence?"

  Volkov hesitated before answering.

  "At first, maybe. Cutting costs on materials. Deadline pressure."

  He paused.

  "But now… I'm not sure they're all accidents."

  Novak stopped typing.

  "Are you saying they might be causing them?"

  Volkov didn't answer directly.

  "If a worker knows something they shouldn't… a dangerous environment can become convenient."

  The air grew colder.

  Novak looked at the board where there were now two large circles connected by red lines:

  Helix Urban Group — St. Elias Hospital

  "Marek… this isn't just a medical cover-up anymore."

  Volkov nodded.

  "It's selection."

  Novak looked at him, waiting for an explanation.

  Volkov spoke firmly:

  "Helix had to pay when employees had families demanding justice.

  Now they hire foreigners without close connections.

  If something happens… the cost is minimal.

  And if they survive… the hospital takes care of the rest."

  The police station phone vibrated at that moment.

  Novak looked at the screen.

  "It's Clara."

  Volkov held her gaze.

  "Tell me Gabriel is still alive."

  Novak answered… and his expression slowly changed.

  The silence that followed was worse than any confirmation.