The name above Solis had no face yet.Riven sat in his apartment with the four-page document on the desk in front of him and the debt clock running its quiet pulse at the edge of his vision and worked through what the meeting on the fourteenth floor had actually produced. Not what he had hoped for. What had actually happened, which was a discipline he had learned from Edmund’s files, the distinction between the picture you wanted to be building and the one the evidence was actually drawing.Solis had taken the call. Four minutes, personal cell, routed through a holding company that had been structured in advance for exactly that kind of contact. He had returned to the room recalibrated, not afraid, recalibrated, which was the response of a man who had received instructions from someone he trusted to have already anticipated this. And he had said, with the careful precision of a person reading language they had been given, that the architecture predated his involvement by more than a d