<div style="text-align: justify;">As was usual in those busy days, Rogger had saw himself forced to stay some extra hours at the office. Oodles of documents waited over his desk, waiting to be fulfilled or thoughtfully revised. Tons of contracts, reclamations and other kinds of soporific bureaucracy. “Five years of my life studying at college for this…” He thought for himself while he moved an awful lot of papers from one place of the desk to another. <br/>He was a black man, more than 30 years old. His face was characterised by strong and firm traits. His eyes where so dark as his hair, combed in a classic way, as he was asked to do by the enterprise’s administration. His office was little more than a ridiculously small room, filled up by metallic shelves and his desk. <br/><br/>After looking at his watch, he sighed stressfully. “Only one more and I’ll go back home”. His tired gaze passed over the paper, reading complex and confusing labyrinths of technical words. Suddenly his eyes opened widely, giving to his face a tone of disbelief.<br/><br/> -Sweet mother of god…- he said loudly while looking at some details of the next pages. It was fascinating. Only an extremely canny reader would realize what does documents really meant, taking into account its implication and the information from other attachments. At first it would seem just a simple error with the numbers, but when focusing on the minutiae, one would understand what it actually meant. Then at his right he saw an envelope, since then hidden down the papers. Rogger got it and read an inscription in the envelope itself: <em>For the inconvenience</em>. <br/><br/>He opened the envelope at looked inside it. It was full of 100 dollars banknotes. And it was a big envelope. He gulped. The temptation was so powerful, but Rogger, surprised, found within himself enough will power to let it back on the desk. Such kind of practises where against all his ideals. “No away” he thought, while he got his phone to call the police. “Wait, can I even trust the police?” He felt a shiver in the back. “I cannot trust anybody… Well, perhaps…The press!” He remembered a journalist outstanding for her skills and fearlessness. In a newspaper website, he easily found her phone number. “Maybe, if I can tell her staying anonymous…” he thought while he dialled Maggie’s number. <br/></div>