“I sent the mail, Arthur,” I said.

My voice was steady, a sharp contrast to the shaking of his hand.

Julian did not move his hand from his coat.

His eyes shifted from my face to the glowing screen on the counter.

“A mail?” Julian asked, his voice low and curious.

“The archive,” I said.

“She is bluffing,” Arthur said, though his voice lacked conviction.

He looked toward the phone, his eyes wide and bloodshot.

The blue light flickered once, then turned a solid, steady green.

A single chime sounded from the speaker.

It was a clean, digital note that cut through the sound of the rain.

“That is the confirmation tone,” I said.

“Confirmation of what?” Arthur spat.

He pulled me back a step, dragging my heels across the rug.

“The United States Attorney for the Southern District just received three gigabytes of encrypted ledgers,” I said.

I looked at the clock on the wall.

It was three minutes past eleven.

“They have the routing numbers for the Swiss accounts,” I said.

“They have the deeds to the warehouses in Queens.”