Alexander’s mouth thinned into a straight line.

“She carries it with her,” he said.

“Or she keeps it close,” I corrected.

“She wouldn’t leave something that valuable in an office server room where an IT administrator could find it.”

I opened a web browser and navigated to the local news portal.

The homepage featured a large banner advertisement.

A picture of Victoria Crane, elegant and smiling coldly in a black silk gown, stared back at us.

The headline read: *The Annual Crane Foundation Winter Gala.*

“It’s tomorrow night,” I said.

“At the Metropolitan Museum of Art,” Alexander read from the screen.

“Every major donor, board member, and politician in the city will be there.”

“Victoria will be hosting,” I said.

“And her private suite at the museum will have her personal security detail.”

“She has a portable safe she uses for off-site events,” Alexander said.

He knew her habits better than anyone.

“She keeps her private keys and credentials in it,” he continued.

“It will be in the holding room behind the main gallery.”

I looked down at my hands, then up at him.