“I know the routing codes for his bank in Zurich,” I said.

“And I know the passwords he used for his digital ledgers.”

“He always used the same sequence of numbers.”

Damiano picked up his desk phone and dialed a short extension.

“Get Marco up here,” Damiano said into the receiver.

“And bring a secure laptop.”

He hung up the phone and looked at me.

“If this works, we can freeze his assets before the gala,” Damiano said.

“He won’t have the money to pay his mercenaries.”

“He will be vulnerable.”

“He will be desperate,” I corrected him.

“A desperate Marcus is dangerous.”

“So am I,” Damiano said.

The door opened, and a young man in a clean suit walked in, carrying a laptop.

He hesitated when he saw the two bodies on the floor, but he quickly looked away.

“Set it up on the desk,” Damiano told him.

The young man opened the laptop and began typing rapidly.

I walked around the desk and stood behind him, ready to give him the codes.

Before I could speak, a sharp, high-pitched alarm began to beep on Damiano’s desk console.