I slowly reached into my trouser pocket, pulled out the titanium cryptographic transponder key that the woman on Route 6 had pressed into my palm, and laid it flat atop my desk:
CLINK.
The titanium shank clicked against the laminate with a sharp, metallic ring that carried across the silent bullpen like a gunshot.
From the end of the corridor, behind the heavy double-leaf frosted-glass doors of the Executive Boardroom, came the sound of loud, triumphant laughter.
Nick Sterling’s voice boomed through the acoustic glass, rich with that theatrical, practiced charm that had swindled twenty regional businesses out of their marketing reserves:
”To the merger, gentlemen!” Nick roared, followed by the clinking of crystal champagne flutes:
”To the acquisition of Vanguard Creative Group by The Holbrook-Vance Syndicate!”
”With Sebastian Miller removed from the operational registry, our intellectual property conveyance is complete! We sign the master asset transfer at twelve o’clock, and the wire from Zurich clears the clearinghouse before the banks close!”
