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"I don't know."

He looks at me.

I point a warning finger at him. "Don't."

"I said nothing."

"You were about to."

"About numbers?"

"About my emotional relationship with not knowing them."

"Is it emotional?"

"Extremely."

His mouth twitches, but his attention returns to the total.

Three hundred and sixty-eight million.

The number is obscene, but the total isn't what bothers me most. I open the destination structures again.

"Look."

Adrianos leans closer.

"The money isn't behaving like profit."

"Explain."

"If these people were stealing to enrich themselves, we'd see consumption. Property purchases. Luxury assets. Dividends. Private transfers. Money leaving the network."

"But it isn't."

"Not much."

I isolate several accounts.

"They're layered for liquidity. Short-term instruments. Cash-equivalent holdings. Funds that can be moved without liquidating major assets. They aren't investing for growth."

"They're keeping it available."

"Yes."

I open another destination. Same thing. Then another. The pattern becomes unmistakable. Whoever built this isn't accumulating wealth. They're accumulating capacity.

A reservoir.

The word from last night returns with more weight now. A reservoir isn't valuable because of the water sitting inside it. It's valuable because of what happens when someone opens the gate.

Adrianos rises and walks toward the window, and I watch him, waiting.

His hands slip into his pockets. His reflection stares back from the glass while Athens spreads beneath him.

"What aren't you telling me?"

He looks over his shoulder.