The master study had become a high-frequency trading war room.
Massive curved displays lined the mahogany walls, their screens bathing the room in a cold, pulsing glow of emerald and sapphire data feeds from the Zurich, London, and Frankfurt exchanges. The rhythmic hum of dedicated fiber-optic server racks filled the space, vibrating faintly through the polished parquet flooring.
Aurora stood at the center of the command console, her fingers moving in a blur across the mechanical keys, her dark eyes tracking every microsecond of algorithmic movement.
It was Sunday night. Twenty-three hundred hours. The European markets would open in exactly nine hours.
And The Vane Cartel was moving to execute an economic decapitation.
"The attack vector is classic predatory liquidation," Aurora said,
