“If he’s moving the liquid assets tonight, he has to do it from the secure terminal in his executive suite.”

“He doesn’t trust the remote network for transfers of that size.”

“We have to catch him in the act.”

Sarah looked at me for a long second, then nodded.

She accelerated, the wipers slapping violently against the windshield.

Ten minutes later, we pulled into the underground parking garage of Rourke Regional Mobility.

The concrete structure was empty, smelling of damp earth and car exhaust.

We walked quickly toward the private elevator bay.

I pulled my old keycard from my purse.

My hands shook as I pressed the plastic card against the electronic reader.

The light flashed red, then turned a steady, solid green.

The heavy steel doors slid open.

“He hasn’t deactivated your administrative badge yet,” Sarah muttered.

“He’s too arrogant to think I’d actually show up,” I said.

The elevator climbed to the twentieth floor in silence.

When the doors opened, the executive lobby was dark, lit only by the security lights along the floorboards.

The smell of expensive leather and floor wax hung in the air.