On another camera feed, in a different corridor, Nicolas was standing with a man Dominique didn't recognize.
They were speaking in low, urgent tones, their heads close together, their body language tense and conspiratorial.
The man was tall and thin, with a sharp face and nervous eyes that darted around the corridor like he was expecting to be caught at any moment. His hands fidgeted at his sides and he kept glancing over his shoulder, as if the walls themselves were watching him.
Man's hand moved quickly, slipping something small into his pocket. The movement was practiced, almost casual but Dominique's trained eyes caught every detail.
Dominique zoomed in on the footage, his eyes narrowing. It was a small packet of white powder.
