The afternoon sun hung low over Novus City, casting a warm, amber glow through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the hotel suite. Allen Morgan had finished a quiet lunch and returned to find the room transformed into what looked like a high-end pawn shop.
Olga Finlan was sprawled across the sofa, surrounded by the "spoils of war" she had liberated from the greasy businessmen at the airport. She was meticulously examining each item with the discerning eye of a professional appraiser.
"This watch is actually decent," she mused, polishing a Rolex Submariner with the hem of her sleeve. "Original movement, minimal scratches. It should fetch a fair price at auction. The wallet is fine too—enough cash for a decent dinner. But this belt..." She picked up a tacky, gold-buckled leather strap with tw
