The distraction gave him the three seconds he needed.

He bolted toward the French doors that opened onto the private stone balcony.

“He’s heading for the grounds,” I said, my tactical instincts taking over.

I checked the room’s layout in a split second, mapping the exit routes.

The balcony overlooked the lower terrace and the massive hedge maze of the formal gardens.

Beyond the gardens lay the perimeter wall and the darkened service roads.

Vance knew the estate’s blind spots because he had helped design its security protocols.

I ran to the balcony railing and looked down into the gloom.

The rain had started again, a cold drizzle that made the stone steps slick and shiny.

Below us, Vance was already navigating the lower terrace, his dark coat blending into the shadows.

He held the silver drive tight against his chest.

“I’ll call security,” Alexander said, his hand shaking as he reached for the desk phone.

“Don’t,” I said. “If the security team is compromised, you’ll only alert his people.”

I measured the distance from the balcony to the wooden trellis below.