The Kevlar vest restricted Theo Lim’s breathing, forcing him to take short, shallow gasps. He stared at his trembling hands, the dim ambient light of the armored transport casting long shadows over his knuckles.
Rain lashed against the reinforced glass. Out in the gray morning, a phalanx of police motorcycles escorted the blacked-out Escalade down the FDR Drive, carving a secure path toward the federal courthouse in lower Manhattan.
Sitting across from him, Julianne reviewed a stack of manila folders. Her stomach tightened, a wave of morning sickness threatening to break her focus. She pressed two fingers against her wrist, feeling the cold platinum of the biometric tracker. She forced a slow breath, swallowing the nausea.
Christian noticed the subtle shift in her posture. He reached ac
