The smell of damp concrete and industrial cleaner filled my nose.

I found the grey metal junction box near the water pipes.

It took me four minutes to splice my transmitter into the local network.

“The security cameras on the third floor are looped,” I said, looking up at him.

“You have fifteen minutes before the system runs an automatic diagnostic.”

“That is more than enough,” Alexander said.

We took the service elevator to the third floor.

The elevator door opened to the sound of soft violin music and distant chatter.

The air smelled of expensive perfume and champagne.

We stepped out into the gallery.

Alexander adjusted his cuffs.

He looked every bit the billionaire he had been a week ago.

Nobody noticed us at first as we blended into the crowd.

Women in glittering dresses and men in dark suits stood in small groups, holding crystal glasses.

Then I saw Victoria Crane.

She stood near the center of the room, wearing a silver gown that looked like liquid metal.

Her blonde hair was pulled back tightly.

She was laughing at something Marcus Reed was saying.