"Regarding the exposure of Miss Ross..." Frustration was evident in his voice. "We traced the IP address through seventeen relay points and finally tracked it to a server in Iceland."
"Iceland?" I turned around.
"Yes, but that server was just a waypoint. The real source..." He enlarged the tracking path diagram on the screen—a dense network topology map with red lines tangled like a spider's web.
"The real source is here." He pointed to a node on the map. "A virtual private network using military-grade encryption protocols."
"Our tech department says this level of encryption is typically only used by intelligence agencies."
Military-grade. Intelligence agencies.
"They're professionals," I said, walking to my desk and bracing my hands on its surface. "Not something an ordinary person could pull off."
"Exactly," Evan said. "And every time we attempted to dig deeper, they immediately severed the connection. As if..."
"As if someone is monitoring our investigation in real-time," I finished for him.
Evan nodded.
I sat down at the desk, my fingers beginning to tap rhythmically on the surface. One. Two. Three. The steady rhythm helped me organize my thoughts.
"What about Lucas?"
"I interrogated him as soon as he woke up," Evan said, flipping to another page. "But he had nothing of value. The employer contacted him through encrypted email. They never met, never had voice or video calls."
"All communication was text-based, and..." Evan paused, "those emails auto-deleted within twenty-four hours of being sent. Lucas said he wanted to preserve evidence but couldn't do it technically."
I picked up Lucas's interrogation transcript and read it line by line.
Q: How much did they pay you?
A: Eight million upfront, another ten million upon completion.
Q: How was the money transferred?
A: Offshore account. A bank in the Cayman Islands.
Q: Did you ever meet them?
A: Never. All contact was through email.
Q: Did they reveal any personal information?
A: No. The emails were only signed with a code name—V.
My finger stopped on the last line. "V," I murmured.
"Yes," Evan said. "We investigated that offshore account. The account holder is an investment company registered in the Cayman Islands, but that company..."
"Is another shell corporation, isn't it?" I wasn't surprised.
"Correct, Alpha." Evan's voice grew more dejected. "Like Russian nesting dolls, one inside another. We traced through five layers, each one a shell. It finally led to a trust fund registered in Jersey Island, but..."
"But the fund's beneficiary information is confidential," I said, picking up the pen from my desk and spinning it between my fingers. "And Jersey Island law protects that privacy. We can't access it."
Evan nodded, a flicker of surprise in his eyes as he looked at me.
How did I know this so well? Because I'd used the same methods to hide assets before. I understood these operations intimately. Apparently, so did our adversary.
