The thick leather folder hit the heavy oak table with a loud, ringing thud that cut straight through the quiet holding room.

Arthur Pendelton stared at the black leather cover in absolute terror. His slimy face went pale white, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. The dirty magistrate standing by the door in heavy steel handcuffs let out a pathetic, soft sob, dropping his head down in complete shame.

Herr Karl Weber, the Swiss Minister of Justice, stepped forward with slow, heavy grace. His face was cold and hard, carved from pure granite. He reached out his gloved hand and opened the leather file, his...