pte

in the F

tant, vanished without a trace. There was only a clean desk and wiped drives-no note or forwarding address. Vern had once boasted that he was too loyal to run, but Marcus could no longer afford to believe in that kind of

meone close had access. Breadcrumbs were being spread. "Shadow Money and the Man Behind the Curtain" was the headline. No names, but the subtext pointed directl

re rerouted. The safe houses were dim. His informants on the street fed him dirt. The cyberattack came in waves-first his shell company in Zurich, then the Cayman outpost. Someone was inside the system,

no envelope, no prints, j

We know your sleeping

o bluff. Ju

now alone for the first time in twenty years-cornered in the gloom, facing a war he had not initiated against an enemy he could not see. In the glittering halls of East Coast finance and power, Marcus Vidal moves like a shadow wrapped in Armani. To the public, he is a revered figure-an economic genius, a senior politi

cs, interned at Goldman Sachs, and eventually built a boutique financial firm that catered exclusively to governments, arms contractors, and private security firms. But behind the pristine spre

s eyes are always assessing, searching, dissecting motives behind every smile. Marcus enjoys the fact that no one knows exactly what he really wants. Ambition is hi

s and counterinsurgency during the day. By night, he launders millions through a shell corporation network that bankrolls the very insurgents the go

confesses fragments of truth, enough to make her complicit but never enough to give her leverage. His enemies have tried to unearth him-journalists,

the target of his fierce protectiveness. He watches her like a hawk, but he makes sure she lives happily away from h

ys gets too close. The more influence he amasses, the more volatile the game becom

from Celia DuPont. Her voice was

rtment of Resources grant for energy infrastructure went through a Beirut shell company." Marcus slo

rus Hol

ceable-hidden behind three layers of straw directors and registered under a Panamanian l

request origin

ble for it. It came from a journalist. She sent a FOIA request three we

o the window with an unmoving face. "Who is she called

at followed. Marcus pressed his

s she's following a corruption trail inside the Dep

suddenly colder. "Then

our siste

r," he said, too quickly.

he'd built, the network would collapse. And no amount of charm could save him if the government discov

he greeted him, not realizing that two security guards were nearby wearing aliases. He offered her stories, hint

bel wasn

in this?" she asked. "You've

sion. "I care about you. I do

gistered under your birthdate?" you might ask. For a bri

Crossing her arms, Celia waited. "She's not

r a false lead. Burn a

becoming liabilities, not assets. He realized the web he ha

ne anymore. A federal prosec

The war Marcus was profiting fro