“Hurry,” I whispered, holding Victor’s elbow to steady him as we reached the bottom of the steps.

The cellar was narrow, flooded with an inch of murky water that soaked through my boots.

A faint grey light shone at the far end of the tunnel, where the drainage pipe emptied into the canal.

We walked quickly, our boots splashing in the dark, until we emerged into the cold rain of the alleyway.

The coastal air was thick with the scent of salt and diesel fuel.

I looked back up toward the safehouse window, but no one had followed us into the canal yet.

“They’ll search the perimeter next,” I said, wiping the rain from my eyes.

“We need the physical ledger,” Victor said, leaning against the wet brick wall to catch his breath.

“You said the encryption keys were in the box,” I said, turning to face him.

“The keys only decrypt the files,” he explained, his chest heaving. “The actual ledger files—the ones that show Tony’s modern offshore accounts—are stored on a closed network.”

“Where?” I asked.

“The shipping terminal at Pier Forty,” Victor said. “In the main office.”