A voice shouted down the stairs.

“Davis! Get up here!”

The officer outside our door stopped. “What is it?”

“The Captain’s on the line. We’ve got a problem.”

“Did they find the ledger?”

“No,” the voice from the stairs said, sounding panicked.

“The feds just raided the senator’s downtown office.”

The silence in the cellar was thick.

The metal crowbar clinked against the concrete floor.

“What do you mean, the feds?”

“They have the tugboat files, Davis. They’ve had them for an hour.”

My jaw tightened.

Julian had done it.

He had already delivered the proof.

“But how?” Davis muttered, his footsteps moving away from our door.

“We’ve been watching this place since dark. Nobody left.”

“I don’t know, but the Captain says we need to pull out now.”

The footsteps began to retreat up the stairs.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Margaret’s grip on my hand relaxed slightly.

But then, the sound of the footsteps stopped.

They stopped right at the top of the cellar stairs.

A new sound started.

A low, rhythmic electronic beep.