"Cassandra receives a bank alert showing a massive unauthorized withdrawal from her primary maritime shipping fund account."
The vibration of the device against the velvet upholstery of the carriage was the only sound in the suffocating silence of the night. Cassandra stared at the glowing screen of her terminal, her pulse hammering against her throat like a trapped bird. The alert was unambiguous. A transfer of millions, routed through an untraceable sequence of shell companies, had drained the lifeblood of her fleet's emergency reserves. Her eyes burned with a mixture of terror and white-hot rage. She was not a woman who allowed herself to be robbed. She was the one who did the robbing.
Richter sat across from her in the dimly lit carriage, his hands resting calmly on his knees. He
