The Swiss intelligence officers arrived at LanceCorp headquarters on a Tuesday morning, unannounced yet polite, and they walked through the glass lobby where morning light reflected off polished marble floors and the faint scent of coffee lingered from the executive kitchen. "Mr. Stiff, we'd like to discuss matters of mutual interest regarding historical business operations," the lead officer said while showing credentials that identified him as Federal Intelligence Service, and his voice carried the calm authority of someone accustomed to being obeyed without raising it. Lawrence's legal team appeared within minutes, and his lead attorney, Marcus Reinhardt, spoke before Lawrence could respond. "What specifically do you wish to discuss?" "We're conducting inquiries into Thomas Lance's business activities during the 1990s and early 2000s, routine investigation into historical operations that may have involved sensitive ma

The encrypted request arrived without fanfare, just a brief line on Lawrence's secure tablet: "Malcolm Drayton requests conversation regarding mutually beneficial resolution." He read it several times, the words sitting there like a quiet challenge, and then he let several long minutes pass before he tapped accept. Erik handled the setup in the soundproofed room off the main office, methodically checking for bugs, confirming the line's encryption held firm against any interception, and finally stepping back so Lawrence could sit alone in front of the large screen. Drayton's face appeared precisely on schedule. He looked unchanged from their tense encounter in London—silver hair neatly combed, eyes gentle behind rimless glasses, the sort of grandfatherly warmth that could make people lower their guard even after they had learned better. "Mr. Stiff," Drayton said, his voice carrying genuine courtesy. "Thank you for taking my call."<

Volkov's call came at three in the morning, and the ring itself carried the weight of something already broken. "We need to meet. Now. My compound. Come immediately." Lawrence had been lying awake for hours anyway, staring at the ceiling while Drayton's deadline pressed against his chest like a stone. "What's happened?" "Not over the phone. Get here within the hour." He dressed quickly in the dark apartment, pulled on a coat against the sharp February cold, and drove through Zurich's empty streets, past shuttered shops and silent trams, the only movement the occasional taxi light cutting through fog. The road out of the city narrowed, flanked by dark pines, until he reached the gated entrance to Volkov's compound, where floodlights snapped on and armed security waved him through without a word. The Russian oligarch waited in his study, the room heavy with the smell of leather and

Lawrence stared at the list of potential board candidates, crossing off another name. Fourteen approaches in two weeks. Fourteen rejections.Kent entered with coffee and grim news. "Heinrich Mueller just withdrew. He was our best prospect.""What happened? He seemed genuinely interested yesterday.""He received an anonymous message this morning. Direct threat warning him against joining LanceCorp's board." Kent pulled up the message on his tablet. "Someone knows we're recruiting and is actively sabotaging our efforts."Lawrence read the message: "Mr. Mueller—Joining LanceCorp's board would be a catastrophic career decision. Consider the fate of those who've already served. Resign while you still can.""The Assembly," Lawrence said."Probably. Though it could be governments trying to isolate you by preventing board recruitment." Kent sat down heavily. "We're running out of time. Thirty-one days until Swiss regulators can force administrative dissolution.""And we still need two more bo

Lord Harrison Blackwell requested the meeting at his London estate, insisting on in-person discussion rather than video conference. Lawrence made the trip despite Erik's security concerns, bringing his full protection detail. Blackwell received him in a private study lined with centuries-old books and family portraits. The aristocrat looked exactly as he had at Titan's Circle—dignified, composed, radiating old-world confidence. "Mr. Stiff, thank you for coming. I know travel is complicated given your security situation." "You said you had a potential solution to government pressure. That's worth the risk." "Indeed." Blackwell poured tea from an antique service. "I've been using my family connections to quietly assess what governments actually want versus what they're publicly demanding. The results are illuminating." "In what way?" "Most officials invol