A woman’s leg slid out, ending in a five-inch red patent leather stiletto.

Victoria stepped onto the garage floor, her designer trench coat belted tight at her waist.

Her eyes were cold, darting from Andrew to Koko’s raised phone, then finally settling on me.

“Do you really think security is going to stop me, Andrew?” Victoria asked, her voice smooth and devoid of any panic.

“They aren’t just stopping you, Victoria,” Andrew said, taking another step forward so he stood between her and me.

“They are locking down the servers,” he added.

Marcus, the driver, remained frozen, his hand still tucked inside his jacket.

“Marcus, stand down,” Victoria said, not looking at him.

Marcus slowly withdrew his hand, empty, and rested it on the top of the car door.

“Julian is a coward,” Victoria said, tilting her head. “If he is talking, he is only trying to save his own skin.”

“He already gave up the secondary server codes,” Andrew said.

He held out his hand toward Victoria, palm up.

“The drive,” Andrew said. “Give it to me.”