“She kept a record of every administrative login Bennett used for the Greenwich server,” Julian murmured.

“Read the entry for October twelfth,” I said.

My heart beat a steady, heavy rhythm against my ribs.

Julian ran his finger down the blue-ink lines.

“Here it is,” he said. “‘October 12, 3:10 PM. Greenwich terminal. Admin override code: 8-8-4-Zeta-Luxe.'”

“Priya,” I called out to the speakerphone. “I have the code.”

“Give it to me,” Priya said, the rapid clicking of her keyboard starting up again.

I read the sequence of letters and numbers aloud.

“Eight, eight, four, capital Z, e, t, a, hyphen, capital L, u, x, e,” I said.

The rain began to patter against the window of the Carlyle suite.

It was a gray afternoon, the sky over Central Park matching the color of wet slate.

“Entering the sequence now,” Priya said.

The silence in the room stretched.

Julian did not blink.

He kept his eyes fixed on the glowing screen of his laptop, which was linked to Priya’s secure terminal.

“Processing,” Priya whispered.

A progress bar on Julian’s screen reached ninety percent, then ninety-nine.