The driver kept his eyes on the dark highway ahead, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“Accessing the secondary gateway now,” I muttered.

I watched the progress bar on my screen.

It was at forty percent.

“Come on,” I whispered.

“Fifty percent,” Marcus counted down. “Vivian’s IP address just pinged from a terminal near the private hangar at O’Hare.”

“She’s already at the airport,” I said. “She has her passport and her offshore routing slips.”

“If she boards that plane with the confirmation codes, we can’t touch her,” he said.

“She won’t board,” I said.

I pressed the enter key with a sharp tap of my index finger.

The progress bar jumped to eighty percent, then turned green.

A flashing prompt appeared on my screen: *Transaction Intercepted. Route Pending.*

“I have the master route,” I said.

“What are you doing with it?” Marcus asked, his head turning toward me.

“I’m routing it to the escrow account we set up with Grandfather Bradford’s trustee,” I said.

“That will lock the funds under the court’s jurisdiction,” he said.