The apartment on Calle de la Fe was exactly what Rice expected—small, sparse, and strategically located.It occupied the third floor of a narrow building wedged between a shuttered bakery and a tobacco shop. The windows faced the street but were covered with heavy curtains that had probably been there for years. The furniture was minimal: a sagging couch, a rickety table, two wooden chairs, and a bed in the corner with a mattress that smelled of mildew. The kitchen was barely functional, but the water ran clean and the gas stove worked.Rice had moved Joao from the old apartment under cover of darkness, half-carrying the wounded man through the empty streets. Joao's condition had worsened—the infection was spreading, and his fever had climbed dangerously. He muttered in Portuguese, fragments of sentences that made no sense, his eyes glassy and unfocused."We need to find a doctor," Rice said, more to himself than to Joao.The room didn't answer. Joao had drifted into a restless sleep,

Barcelona faded in the rearview mirror.Rice drove the black Seat through the industrial outskirts of the city, past shipping containers and cranes and the skeletal remains of abandoned factories. The Mediterranean glinted to his right, a distant shimmer of blue. The highway stretched ahead, empty and gray under the morning sky.He'd left the warehouse before dawn, following Charlotte's instructions to the letter. A new route, a new identity, a new destination. The papers in the glove compartment identified him as a Portuguese businessman named Carlos Mendes. The car was registered to a shell company in Andorra. Everything checked out.Everything except the feeling in his gut.The burner phone buzzed on the passenger seat. Rice glanced at it. A text from Charlotte."Border crossing at La Jonquera. Use the AP-7. My contact will meet you at the toll plaza. Red van. Spanish plates. Follow him."Rice memorized the details and deleted the message. The AP-7 was the main highway to France, a

Rice didn't lower the Glock.He kept it aimed at Amelia Stone's chest, his finger resting on the trigger, his breathing steady. The storage locker was small—maybe ten feet by ten feet—with concrete walls and a single fluorescent light humming overhead. Behind Amelia, the armed men stood motionless, their weapons raised, their eyes cold.Twelve against one."Dominic," Amelia said again, her voice calm, almost pleasant. "You look terrible. Prison didn't agree with you.""Where is she?" Rice asked.Amelia tilted her head, feigning confusion. "Who?""My daughter.""Ah. Yes. The daughter." Amelia smiled. It was a beautiful smile, cold and practiced. "She's safe. For now. Whether she stays that way depends entirely on you."Rice's finger tightened on the trigger. "If you've hurt her—""You'll what? Kill me?" Amelia laughed. "Look around, Dominic. You're not in a position to make threats."She was right. The men behind her were professionals—armed with submachine guns, wearing body armor, th

The apartment in Kreuzberg was a study in controlled chaos.Maps covered the walls—street layouts, building schematics, satellite photos of the industrial park where Helix Data Systems stood. Charlotte had transformed the small living room into a command center, her laptop glowing on the coffee table, printouts scattered across every available surface. She'd been living here for weeks, preparing for an operation she'd known would eventually come.Rice stood by the window, watching the rain streak down the glass. The city was gray and cold, the kind of weather that seeped into your bones and stayed there. It matched his mood perfectly."The shift change starts at midnight," Charlotte said, pointing to a timeline she'd drawn on a whiteboard. "Eleven fifty-eight, the night crew clocks in. Twelve-oh-five, the day crew clocks out. For exactly twelve minutes, the security office is understaffed while they process the transition.""And the biometric scanners?""My sister works in administrat

The safehouse was silent except for the hum of Charlotte's laptop.Rice stood at the window, watching the gray light of dawn creep over the Berlin skyline. The rain had stopped, leaving the streets slick and glistening. The city was waking up—trams rattling past, delivery trucks unloading, early commuters hurrying toward the station. Ordinary people living ordinary lives, unaware of the violence that had unfolded hours before.His body ached. The adrenaline had faded, leaving behind a bone-deep exhaustion that made every movement feel like wading through water. But he couldn't rest. Not yet. Not while the data was still being analyzed.Charlotte sat at the table, her fingers flying across the keyboard. Her face was pale, her eyes bloodshot, but she worked with the intensity of someone who'd been waiting years for this moment. The download from Helix Data Systems was complete—terabytes of information, encrypted and fragmented, now flowing through Danny's servers in the Alps."Anything?