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Her voice hardens. “Then send me the batch number. We’ll finish what she started.”

“Switch to video,” I tell her. “I need to show you what we found.”

Alexei opens a secure link on the library monitor and sends the code to Kira. A moment later, she appears on-screen in blue scrubs and an open coat. Her eyes move from the ampoules to Alexei beside me.

“You left out the large man watching every word I say.”

“I’m recovering.”

Kira studies his pale face. “You still look like trouble.”

She shifts her phone until her face fills the screen.

I angle our camera toward the table. “You look worse.”

Kira points at the clock behind her. “I’m working. What’s your excuse?”

Alexei shifts in his chair. “A coup.”

Kira stares at him, then looks at me. “Is he serious?”

I hold the batch number closer to the camera. “Can you check the pharmacy losses, the drugs kept in the ambulances, and any false trauma transfers from the past six months?”

Kira looks closely at the numbers. The color drains from her face when she reads it. “Marina asked me about this batch.”

“When?”

“The week before she died,” Kira says. “A sealed box from that batch reached Marina’s station, but it vanished before she could log it and lock it away. Other drugs had gone missing too, so she went to the pharmacy to find out who signed for it.”

Kira opens the next message and shares her screen.

“On the way, she saw an orderly pushing a covered cart toward the ambulance bay. Part of the same drug box was sticking out beneath the blankets, and Marina could still see the batch label.”

Alexei leans closer. “Did she name him?”

“No, but she sent me a picture of the cart.”

The image appears on our screen. A sealed gray bin sits beneath folded blankets, and a green collection tag hangs from the handle.

I enlarge it. “SeverMed Services.”

“Send the messages to Vera now,” Alexei says. “Then stop looking over your shoulder and start looking around you. Be careful.”

When Kira speaks again, her voice is steady.

“I’m not scared of them,” she says. “But I’m not reckless, either.”

A moment later, the messages reach the clean phone. I open them and send them to Alexei.

Alexei sends the image to Petrov, then calls Maksim. A minute later, Petrov joins us from the control room.

“Chernov’s company collected waste from the hospital every Tuesday and Friday,” he says. “It’s called SeverMed Services.”

Kira and I exchange a look. Chernov’s men had regular access to the service corridors.

“The sedatives were reported missing on a Friday,” Kira adds.

She turns back to the hospital tablet. “The dispatch office keeps paper copies of the ambulance logs. I can check them without opening the computer record.”