“Keep a close eye on the intellectual property vaults,” I told her.

“The recipe archive?” Priya asked.

“Yes,” I said. “He knows the walls are closing in.”

“If he tries to transfer the digital assets, I will see the IP address,” Priya said.

We sat in the dark car, waiting.

The rain grew heavier, blurring the yellow light of the streetlamps into long streaks of gold on the wet asphalt.

Ten minutes passed in tense silence.

Julian’s laptop suddenly beeped with a low, urgent tone.

Priya’s voice cut through the quiet. “Julian, we have activity.”

My heart thudded against my ribs. “What is he doing?”

“He just logged into the secure server from the Chelsea townhouse IP address,” Priya said.

“Is he downloading the files?” Julian asked.

“No,” Priya said, her keyboard clicking rapidly in the background. “He is transferring ownership.”

“To whom?” I asked, leaning forward.

“An offshore entity registered in Zurich,” Priya said. “It’s called Allemand Holdings.”

“That is a shell corporation,” Julian said. “Who is behind it?”

“I am searching the registry now,” Priya said. “Give me thirty seconds.”