Page 83 of Claimed By The Tracker

"Meeting times. Venues. Your preferred entry points."

A beat.

"Not your public calendar. Your working calendar."

The lobby felt smaller.

"I'll need your last three months of correspondence by morning."

He turned, and his eyes found mine with that same sharpening.

"Everyone you've worked with. Everyone who requested a meeting. Everyone who confirmed your routing."

"That's every active negotiation I'm running. Trade corridor talks with the Eastern bloc. The charter dispute I'm mediating for Ashveil. If any of that leaks⁠⁠—"

"It doesn't leave this building unencrypted, and it doesn't leave my hands."

No hesitation.

"I'm not building a case against you. I'm building a list of everyone who had the access to sell you."

"You think it's someone inside a negotiation."

"I think whoever's selling you knows your calendar better than your assistant does."

He held the elevator door open with one hand.

"That narrows it to people close enough to watch you work. Not people who read about you."

Steel gray, his eyes.

In the morning light, almost silver at the edges.

"Someone in your professional circle is feeding your movements to the network that wants you acquired."

He let it sit there.

Cold.

Solid.

"The threats are a warning shot. The operation's already running."

The elevator opened behind him.

"Who," I said.

Not a question.

A demand.

"I don't know yet."

He stepped inside.

"But I will."

The doors closed over his face.