Grant grabbed Vanessa’s arm.

“Come on,” Grant whispered. “Let’s use the study upstairs.”

“Is the connection secure up there?” she asked.

“Yes,” Grant said. “The private server is in the wall safe.”

They hurried out of the library, their footsteps fading down the hallway.

Miller stood by the terrace doors until the sound of their departure died away.

Then, he turned to the curtain.

“You have six minutes,” Miller whispered.

“Understood,” I said, stepping out from the heavy fabric.

My chest was tight, but my hands were completely steady.

I pulled a small black leather case from my tactical vest.

Inside were four micro-transmitters, each no larger than a button.

They were federal-issue, designed to bypass standard commercial bug sweeps.

I knelt by the mahogany desk where Grant had been standing.

I reached underneath the drawer joint and pressed the first transmitter into the raw wood.

The adhesive bonded instantly.

“First one is active,” I whispered into my collar mic.

“Receiving clean audio,” Marcus responded in my earpiece from the van down the street.

I moved quickly across the room to the heavy brass floor lamp.