I pulled up a leather chair next to Marco.

The young man’s fingers were shaking above the keyboard.

“Open the Swiss commerce gateway,” I told him.

“I need the routing prefix,” Marco said, his voice high and tight.

“Eight-eight-four-zero, then the word ‘lambda’ in lowercase,” I said.

He typed it in, and the screen flashed amber.

“It’s asking for a secondary security key,” Marco said.

“It’s his mother’s maiden name, spelled backward, followed by the year he got his first senate appointment,” I said.

I smelled the faint scent of sulfur and ozone drifting through the vents.

Another burst of gunfire rattled the glass behind us.

“Got it,” Marco whispered. “We’re in his primary ledger.”

The screen filled with rows of blue numbers and transaction histories.

“Look at the outbound transfers scheduled for tonight,” I said.

“There’s a pending transaction of four million dollars to a private security firm in Belgrade,” Marco said.

“That’s his payroll for the mercenaries outside,” I said. “Cancel it.”

“I can’t just cancel it,” Marco said. “It’s locked by a smart contract. I need to route it to a different bank.”