“The routing numbers for the Cayman account you set up under the alias ‘Arthur Pendelton.'”

“The account where you transferred the four million dollars meant for their hazard pay.”

The radio in the first guard’s vest crackled.

A voice spoke through the earpiece, loud enough for all of us to hear.

“Vance, what the hell is this?” the voice asked.

“My phone just got a deposit notification for five hundred dollars, and a document showing you took the rest.”

Vance took a step back, his hand drifting toward his waistband.

“Don’t do it, Marcus,” Giovanni said softly.

The hatch beneath us rattled as the men below tried to force the bolt.

Giovanni reached down and slid the bolt back.

The hatch swung open.

Three wet, mud-splattered mercenaries climbed out, guns raised.

They did not look at Giovanni.

They looked straight at Vance.

The leader of the tunnel team, a broad man with a scar across his chin, held up a rugged smartphone.

“We just checked the blockchain ledger,” the leader said.

“The offshore account is empty, Vance.”

“Giovanni just transferred our full shares to our private wallets.”