On the leather seat next to me lay the black hard drive and the silver flash drive.

They were the two keys to Adrian’s undoing.

Grace slid into the seat next to me and slammed the door.

“Supreme Court, 60 Centre Street,” Grace told the driver. “Fast.”

The car pulled away from the curb, joining the stream of yellow cabs.

I looked out the window at the tall glass towers of the financial district.

Adrian was somewhere up there, thinking he was about to escape.

Suddenly, Grace’s phone buzzed in her lap.

She looked down, her eyebrows knitting together as she answered.

“Donald,” Grace said, putting the call on speaker. “We are on our way to the courthouse.”

“Grace,” the voice of Margaret’s attorney came through the speaker, sounding breathless and panicked. “We have a situation.”

“What kind of situation?” Grace asked, leaning forward.

“Adrian just left the executive suite,” Donald said. “He took the physical ledger of the family trust from the safe.”

My breath caught in my throat.

“Where is he going, Donald?” Grace demanded.