She was wearing a black tactical vest over a dark sweater.

Her federal badge hung from a chain, glinting in the flashing blue lights from the street below.

She held a submachine gun, her eyes scanning the room with absolute precision.

Tony’s guards threw their hands up immediately.

One of them dropped his weapon onto the rug with a soft thud.

“Get down!” Elena yelled at Tony.

Tony did not get down.

He backed away toward the wet bar, his hand still near his belt.

“You brought a cop into my house?” Tony hissed, looking at me.

“She was already in your house, Tony,” I said, rising slowly from behind the chair. “She was cleaning your floors.”

Tony stared at Elena, his mouth open.

“You,” he whispered.

“Hands where I can see them, Tony,” Elena said. “It is over.”

“The docks are mine,” Tony said. “You cannot prove anything.”

“We have the ledger, Tony,” Elena said. “And we have your confession on every screen in the city.”

Outside, the sound of sirens grew louder.

Red and blue lights strobed against the wet glass of the windows.