At 6:37 AM, Andrés Herrera locked his apartment with trembling hands. Inside his briefcase was the USB drive that could clear him of theft charges—and he had less than an hour to reach the courthouse. His old sedan barely started, coughing through the morning traffic as he prayed nothing else would go wrong.
Near the industrial district, he spotted a woman stranded beside a car with a flat tire. Late or not, he stopped. She looked sharp, controlled, frustrated—someone unaccustomed to helplessness. Andrés fixed the tire quickly, told her his name, and hurried back to his car. Neither of them noticed the USB drive slipping from his open briefcase into her passenger seat.
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