“If we use these, we don’t need Philip’s drive. We can bypass the encryption entirely.”

She picked up her desk phone and dialed a direct line.

“Agent Vance,” she said.

“We have the master access keys. And we have a witness willing to cooperate.”

I unmuted my cell phone. “Blaire, are you listening?”

“Yes,” she whispered over the line.

“Tell Agent Vance what you just told me about the drives and the Blue Horizon accounts.”

An hour later, I was sitting in the back of a black SUV parked outside the Mercer Hospitality headquarters on Madison Avenue.

The rain was hitting the windshield in heavy, rhythmic slaps, blurring the yellow taxi lights on the street.

Two unmarked federal vehicles pulled up to the curb behind us.

I watched six agents in dark windbreakers step out into the wet night, their flashlights cutting through the gloom.

They had a federal search warrant signed by a magistrate thirty minutes prior.

Lena and I followed them inside the marble lobby.

The security guard behind the desk didn’t even try to stop them when Vance flashed his badge.