THE CADILLAC AT FOUR O'CLOCK

Clara lifted the heavy lid of the steel box. Inside lay a leather-bound journal filled with handwritten dates, account numbers, and vessel manifests, along with three black encrypted flash drives.

"This is it," Clara whispered, her eyes filling with tears of relief. "This is everything. The names of the judges, the shipping companies, the politicians... Vance's entire network."

"Take it," Thomas said, reaching out to help her gather the drives. "We get this to the federal prosecutor's office in the city, and—"

"I am afraid the federal prosecutor's office is currently unavailable, Thomas."

The smooth, cold voice echoed down the concrete staircase, amplified by the low ceiling of the basement.

Thomas reacted instantly, shoving Clara behind the copper grease trap as he drew his SIG Sauer, raising it toward the base of the stairs.

A figure descended slowly into the beam of the flashlight.

It was Vance. He was still wearing his tailored black suit, completely dry now, holding an silver-plated automatic pistol equipped with a heavy suppressor. Behind him stood two tall, broad-shouldered men in raincoats, both holding submachine guns.

"You really are a persistent man, Thomas," Vance said softly, stopping at the bottom step. "A former cop turned greasy-spoon waiter. A tragic story, really. You could have lived out the rest of your quiet, pathetic life wiping down marble tables."

"Vance," Thomas said, his weapon locked onto the center of the hitman's chest. "You're outnumbered by the evidence in this box. The moment this hits the press, your employers will put a bullet in your head just to clear their own names."

Vance smiled, a terrifyingly hollow expression. "The press won't see it. You won't live long enough to upload a single byte. And as for the girl..." He tilted his head slightly, peering into the shadows behind the grease trap. "She will join her father in the river."

"She's eight years old in her heart, Vance," Thomas growled, his finger tightening on the trigger. "She's just a kid who wanted a plate of pancakes."

"Children grow up," Vance replied coldly. "And when they grow up, they seek revenge. I prefer to eliminate the risk early."