Read Chapter 4: The Financer's Fine Print

The tender lapped against the hull of *La Sirène*, a sixty-meter white beast of a yacht that cost more than everything Alex had ever owned, stolen, or planned to steal. Viktor Markov stood at the stern in a linen suit that probably cost more than the boat's dinghy, holding a tablet like it was a holy relic.

"Ace." Viktor's voice was warm, almost paternal. "You look like you haven't slept."

"Seventeen hours before the biggest score of my life. Sleep is a luxury I can't afford."

Viktor laughed, a low rumble that didn't quite reach his eyes. He gestured for Alex to join him at a chrome table shaded by a retractable awning. A bottle of Pétrus sat open, breathing. Two glasses already poured.

"Then let's not waste time." Viktor slid the tablet across the table. "As promised. Full floor plans for the casino's basement level and the settlement system's routing room."

Alex picked up the tablet. The plans were detailed—architectural scans, cable runs, junction boxes, even the locations of the security cameras that would be blind during the Grand Prix fireworks show. Jules would weep with joy. Zoe would have a field day.

But something was off.

Alex's fingers moved across the screen, zooming in on the vault chamber adjacent to the settlement room. The plans showed the reinforced walls, the pressure plates in the floor, the thermal sensors mounted in the ceiling corners. What they didn't show was the laser grid.

"You're missing something," Alex said, keeping his voice flat.

Viktor raised an eyebrow. "Am I?"

"The vault. Two years ago, they installed a proximity-based laser system. Motion-reactive, frequency-hopping. It goes active at midnight and doesn't shut down until six a.m. That's right in the middle of our window." Alex tapped the screen where the grid should have been marked. "These plans don't show it."

Viktor took a slow sip of wine, studying Alex over the rim of the glass. "Perhaps my source didn't have access to that particular update."

"Your source had access to the cable routing in the server room. The same server room that controls the laser grid's power supply." Alex set the tablet down. "That seems like an inconsistent level of detail."

A long moment passed. The only sounds were the water slapping against the hull and the distant roar of Formula One engines practicing on the circuit above the harbor.

"The plans are what they are, Ace." Viktor's voice hardened by a degree. "I acquired them at considerable expense and considerable risk. If you want to verify every square centimeter, you're welcome to do so yourself. But you have seventeen hours, and I suspect you have other things to occupy your time."

Alex didn't blink. "The helicopter."

"Excuse me?"

"The extraction. You changed it last night. Fishing boat becomes a rooftop helicopter pickup. And now you're giving me plans that conveniently omit the one security system that could stop us from getting the ledger out of that vault." Alex leaned forward. "I'm starting to think you're not trying to help me pull this off, Viktor. I'm starting to think you're trying to make sure I don't."

Viktor's expression remained placid, but something flickered behind his eyes—a calculation, a reassessment. He set down his glass and folded his hands on the table.

"Let me tell you a story, Ace. A few years ago, I financed a crew in Macau. Professional, well-prepared, the kind of people you'd trust with your life. They had a plan that was beautiful on paper. But the casino knew. The syndicate knew. They were walking into a kill box." He paused. "I lost four men that night. Four men I'd known for a decade. And the only reason I wasn't in that vault with them was because I'd had a premonition—a feeling that something was wrong. I changed the extraction at the last minute. It saved my life."

"Macau doesn't have a helicopter pad on the roof of their casino."

"No, it doesn't. It has a service tunnel that floods during high tide." Viktor smiled, thin and cold. "My point is that I've learned to trust my instincts. And my instincts are telling me that the roof is the safest possible extraction point. Not because I have some hidden agenda, but because the water route is compromised."

"Compromised how?"

"Étienne intercepted a transmission this morning. The harbor patrol has been alerted to 'suspicious maritime activity' during the Grand Prix weekend. They'll be sweeping the entire coastline from ten p.m. until dawn." Viktor spread his hands. "You wanted the original route, and it no longer exists. The helicopter is not a betrayal. It's a necessity."

Alex studied the man across from him. Viktor Markov was not a liar by nature—he was a manipulator, which was worse. He told the truth selectively, shaping it to serve his purposes. The harbor patrol story could be real. Or it could be a convenient fiction designed to steer Alex toward a trap he couldn't verify until it was too late.

"I need to verify those plans," Alex said.

"Take them. Keep them. They're yours." Viktor pushed the tablet forward. "But Ace—the security office. The file they have on you. I've greased the right palms. One more payment, and it becomes ash. But that payment comes after the job. After I have the ledger."

"You've mentioned that file three times tonight."

"Because I know what it contains. And I know what the syndicate would do to you if it ever saw daylight." Viktor's voice dropped to something almost gentle. "I'm not your enemy, Alex. I'm the only friend you have who can make this right."

Alex pocketed the tablet and stood. The wine sat untouched. He didn't trust himself to drink it.

"I'll review the plans. If the laser grid is a problem, I'll find a workaround."

"There's my Ace." Viktor rose and extended his hand. "We'll talk again when it's done. And then you'll be free."

Alex shook the hand, feeling the coldness of Viktor's skin, the slight tremor of a man who was either nervous or lying or both. He walked down the gangplank and onto the dock, the tablet heavy in his pocket, Viktor's words heavier in his mind.

Free. That was the carrot Viktor kept dangling. Erase the file, clear the debt, vanish into a life that didn't include looking over his shoulder every five minutes. It was everything Alex wanted. It was also exactly the kind of promise a man made when he had no intention of keeping it.

The harbor lights reflected off the water as Alex walked back toward the city. His phone buzzed. A text from Jules: *"Zoe found something. Meet us at the garage. Now."*

Alex picked up his pace.

The garage was a converted auto body shop in Fontvieille, hidden behind rolling steel doors and a bay full of half-disassembled race cars. Jules was bent over a laptop when Alex walked in, his mechanic's hands surprisingly delicate on the keyboard. Zoe sat beside him, her face lit blue by the screen.

"What did you find?" Alex asked.

Zoe looked up, and for the first time since he'd known her, she looked genuinely shaken.

"The ledger," she said. "The one the casino wants buried. I found where it's stored." She turned the laptop toward him. "It's not in the vault."

Alex stared at the screen. A schematic of the casino, with a single location highlighted in pulsing red.

"It's in the security office. On a standalone terminal with no network connection." Zoe's voice was barely a whisper. "Which means the entire vault plan is a decoy. The real target was never the settlement system."

Silence filled the garage. Alex felt the pieces click together like tumblers in a lock—Viktor's floor plans, the missing laser grid, the sudden insistence on a rooftop extraction he couldn't verify.

Viktor had never wanted him to steal the ledger.

He wanted him to die trying.

And someone had just made sure Alex knew it.