Parker arrived seventeen minutes after her team.She stood on Marcus's doorstep looking at the bullet in its evidence bag, turning it over once, then handing it to the forensics agent beside her. Her expression was the controlled professional mask Marcus had learned to read beneath and beneath it tonight was something he hadn't seen in Parker before.Unease."Forty caliber," the forensics agent said. "Consistent with a sniper configuration. We'll run ballistics.""They're not going to find anything," Marcus said. "These people are too careful for traceable ammunition."Parker didn't disagree.She came inside. Emma had coffee ready the automatic hospitality of a woman who processed tension by doing something useful. Parker accepted it without comment and sat at the kitchen table where Emma's case files were still spread."I need to tell you something," Parker said. "Both of you."Marcus sat. Emma sat beside him."Three months ago the FBI's organized crime division flagged an organiza

The second folder contained a single photograph.Kowalski slid it across the table face down, the deliberate movement of someone who understood that what was inside had weight. Marcus turned it over.A woman. Late thirties, dark hair cut short, sharp intelligent eyes that looked directly into the camera with the particular steadiness of someone who'd decided something and wasn't changing their mind."Her name is Adriana Voss," Kowalski said. "Heinrich Voss's daughter."The room shifted."His own daughter is your source," Emma said."Was. For eighteen months she fed us information about the Syndicate's operational structure. Financial flows, communication protocols, names of operators in six countries." Kowalski's voice was carefully neutral the tone of a man describing something that cost him sleep. "Six weeks ago her communications stopped. No warning, no emergency signal. Just silence.""You think her father found out," Marcus said."We think someone told him. There's a leak somewhe

Kowalski arrived at 8 AM the next morning.Not at the federal building at the Reid Justice Project office, Marcus's choice deliberately. Neutral ground that Marcus controlled, surrounded by the evidence of what the organization had built. The wall of freed people. The case files. The photographs.He wanted Kowalski to see what was at stake before they discussed how to risk it.Kowalski came alone. He looked at the wall for a long moment before sitting down."Twenty three people," Marcus said. "That's how many wrongful convictions we've overturned. Twenty three families put back together." He sat across from Kowalski. "Everything we've built is connected to what happens next. If this goes wrong if Voss knows we're coming, if the leak feeds him the operational plan it doesn't just cost us the mission. It costs all of this.""I understand," Kowalski said."Then let's talk about the leak first. Before anything else."Kowalski opened his laptop. Turned it toward Marcus and Emma."We've nar

The flight took nine hours.Marcus slept for three of them the light, alert sleep he'd developed in prison, the kind that rested the body without fully releasing the mind. Emma read for four hours, finished her French phrasebook, and spent the remaining time with her head on his shoulder watching the darkness outside the window turn gradually pale.They landed at Geneva International at 6:40 AM local time.The airport was clean, quiet, efficient the particular orderliness of a city that had organized itself around the serious business of money and diplomacy for centuries. Marcus moved through customs with the unhurried confidence of someone who had nothing to hide, which was technically true in every way that a customs officer could verify.Their passports were stamped. Their bags cleared. Nobody looked at them twice.Outside the terminal, a car was waiting. Dark, unmarked, a man behind the wheel who didn't introduce himself and didn't need to. Kowalski's team. Marcus got in. Emma got

The street outside Le Mazot was exactly as Renard had described it.Morning foot traffic heavy, purposeful, the Geneva professional class moving between appointments with the unhurried efficiency of people who were never late because they'd organized time itself. Marcus moved into it immediately, Adriana beside him, Emma falling into step eight feet behind close enough, far enough."Renard," Marcus said quietly. "Update.""Two vehicles. Black SUVs. Heading toward the old town. Six minutes now."Six minutes.The extraction route was a seven minute walk to a parking structure on Rue du Rhône where Hoffman was waiting. Under normal circumstances seven minutes was nothing.Right now seven minutes was everything."We need a car," Marcus said."Hoffman is four minutes away through traffic," Renard said. "Faster if you move toward him."Marcus looked at Adriana. "Can you run?"She answered by moving faster.They cut left off Rue de Rive into a narrower street the old town's medieval geometry