Miller reached inside his heavy wool coat, his fingers brushing the grip of his service weapon.

“We have two unmarked units down the block,” Miller said.

“They won’t get here in time if that SUV drives through the front glass,” Adrian said.

He picked up his phone and dialed the number back.

He held the receiver to his ear, his eyes locked on the headlights shining through the frosted glass.

“I have the ledger for the shipping routes,” Adrian said into the phone. “And the digital keys for the Cayman accounts.”

There was a pause.

I could hear a faint, metallic scratching sound from the receiver, but I couldn’t make out Leo’s words.

“I have them on a flash drive in my pocket,” Adrian continued. “But we do this on my terms.”

Another pause.

“The warehouse on 47th,” Adrian said. “Ten minutes. If I see anyone else there, I wipe the drives.”

He hung up without waiting for an answer.

He looked at Miller.

“He’s moving,” Adrian said.

Through the window, the high beams of the SUV backed up slowly, turning toward the street.