The crimson light radiating from the titanium document case didn't just illuminate the sleek surfaces of the Lagos boardroom; it seemed to leach the very oxygen from the room. On the central wall projection, Julian Vance’s face remained frozen in a high-definition digital loop, his smug, aristocratic smile a chilling testament to the terrifying reach of old money.
"The transmission isn't routing from a terrestrial tower," Ethan said, his voice dropping into a low, tightly coiled register that signaled immediate tactical calculation. He was already back at his terminal, his long fingers striking the mechanical keys with a controlled, thunderous speed that betrayed none of the exhaustion under his eyes. "It’s a satellite bounce originating from a deep-sea mobile command vessel. The hull reg
