“The code is Sierra-Nine-Four-Two,” Grant said, his voice tense.

“Marcus,” I whispered. “Did you get that?”

“Confirming,” Marcus said. “We have the code.”

“Freeze it,” I said.

“Not yet,” Marcus said. “The transfer has to hit the intermediate clearinghouse first.”

“How long?” I asked.

“Two minutes,” Marcus said. “If we block it now, they will get an error message and destroy the hard drives.”

I watched the study door, my fingers resting on my holster.

The house was quiet, save for the hum of the heating vents.

The wind rattled the glass pane of the hallway window.

Inside the study, a keyboard clattered again.

“The transfer is processing,” Grant said.

“How much longer?” Vanessa asked.

“Sixty seconds,” Grant said.

Suddenly, a loud beep echoed from the hallway downstairs.

The security panel near the stairs began to flash.

A red light illuminated the dark corridor.

My earpiece crackled with static.

“Evelyn,” Marcus said, his voice rising. “We have a problem.”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Another vehicle just entered the driveway,” Marcus said.

“Is it security?” I asked.

“No,” Marcus said. “It is an unregistered black sedan.”