"Well," Sergei says.
"Don't even start."
"Wasn't going to say anything."
"You were going to say something about diplomacy."
"I was going to say that went better than the last politician." He grins, gold teeth catching the light.
I'm already moving.
Viktor spreads the files across my office desk an hour later. Printed transaction records. Entry logs. Access timestamps.
"Six months," he says. "Two hundred thousand out, same account, every month. Always authorized from inside the estate network."
"Always from inside, or made to look like it?"
"That's the question." He drops into the chair across from me, looking as strung out as I feel. "Aurora's still working the routing trail. After Zurich it fractures into four accounts. She'll get there, it'll just take time."
I nod. Think about Aurora at her laptop, pulling apart financial architecture that would stump most professionals. She found this in a day. Damned sexy female.
Focus.
"Who has authorization-level access to the transfer system?"
Viktor ticks off fingers. "You. Me. Sergei for smaller accounts, nothing over fifty thousand. A few senior staff with limited clearance." He pauses. "Forty-three people in total who've had access to this building in the last six months."
"One of them is selling me."
I move to the window. The grounds look normal. Green lawns, stone paths, my men on their rounds. All of it orderly. All of it possibly compromised.
"The attack two nights ago," I say. "Whoever planned it knew the estate layout. The blind spots in the sensor coverage. Which wing Aurora was in." I turn back. "That's current intelligence, not blueprints. Someone is feeding them real-time updates."
"Which means they're still active." Viktor's jaw tightens. "Still watching."
Who the fuck is playing this kind of long game?
The Volkovs are obvious but wrong. They're brute force, they throw men at problems, they don't run six-month patience operations. The mysterious caller surfaces in my memory instead. Measured. Educated. Almost amused.
"Pull everyone's financials," I say. "All forty-three. Quietly. I don't want whoever this is to know we're looking." I look at Viktor. "And review the security footage from the week before the attack. Every camera."
"That's hundreds of hours."
"Then start now." I hold his eyes. "Nobody knows we're investigating except you, me, Sergei, and Aurora. Not even Alexei. Not until we know where the leak is."
Viktor nods, gathers the papers, and leaves.
I stand in the empty office and stare at the files spread across my desk like a map of everything I can't see yet.
Think. Start somewhere.
I think. I get nowhere. Every thread I pull leads back to the same answer: I don't know enough yet. Someone is patient and careful and already three steps ahead, and I am running blind in my own house.
I need to find this person.The thought is absolute.And when I do, God help them.
I look out of the window. The afternoon light is starting to fade. Viktor is somewhere reviewing footage. Sergei is coordinating perimeter checks. Everything that can be done tonight is being done, and I still feel useless, like I'm standing in the middle of a burning building trying to find the match.
I need—
