She set the pen down on the paper, tapping it once with her manicured finger.

“Sign, Alexander.”

“I need to read the indemnity clause first,” he said.

He pulled the heavy leather chair back and sat down, deliberately positioning his broad shoulders between Victoria and the window.

It was my cue.

I looked down at the floor.

The black cable of the cloner was still threaded under the curtain.

I bent down, my knees aching from the tension, and slowly pulled the wire back.

It slid over the edge of the Persian rug with a faint, dry hiss.

I coiled the wire into my palm and tucked it into my bag next to the device.

To my left, a set of glass French doors led out to the terrace.

The brass latch was old and heavy.

I reached out and touched the metal.

It was ice-cold.

I began to turn the handle, applying pressure slow and constant to keep the mechanism from popping.

“…which means the subsidiary patents are included,” Victoria was saying, her back to me.

“That wasn’t part of the original restructuring,” Alexander argued.