"It is a rogue politician," Meira whispered, her hands beginning to tremble slightly against the edge of the wooden desk.
Bisma stepped closer to the portable field terminal, his dark eyes fixed on the illuminated screen where the decrypted political records scrolled past. The glow from the monitor caught the sharp angles of his face, accentuating the cold, calculating expression that always surfaced when a new threat revealed itself.
"Are you certain of these routing numbers, Meira?" Bisma asked, his voice steady and low as he leaned over her shoulder to inspect the digital document. "Verify the bank identifiers and the originating IP addresses before we jump to conclusions."
"I have already run three separate verification scripts through our encrypted network," Meira replied, swal
