A bright red line was moving from a server in Denver, routing through Palm Springs, and ending at a secure server in Switzerland.

But underneath that red line, a thin blue line was mirroring its path.

The blue line was redirecting the transaction data directly to a local monitoring port.

“We have him,” I said.

“What does that mean?” Chloe asked.

“It means the money didn’t go to his offshore account,” I said. “It went into a locked escrow folder.”

I pointed to the screen.

“And every single byte of that data has his digital signature on it,” I added.

Chloe sat back in her chair, her shoulders sinking.

“So he’s going to jail?” she asked.

“Not yet,” I said. “We need to make sure he doesn’t realize the transfer failed until it’s too late.”

“How do we do that?” she asked.

“We need to keep him talking,” I said. “And we need to get to the authorities before he realizes the escrow folder is locked.”

I closed the laptop and stood up.

“We have to move,” I said. “Now.”

“Where are we going?” Chloe asked.