COLD CHAMPAGNE, BITTER TRUTHS

They did not take him to an airport. The limousine carried Julian through the winding mountain roads into the twilight, cutting deep into the Alpine borders toward Switzerland.

Julian sat bruised in the corner of the back seat, his shirt torn, dust clinging to his trousers. Lady Beatrice sat opposite him, composed and silent, sipping chilled mineral water from a crystal tumbler. Between them sat a burly bodyguard whose gaze never left Julian’s throat.

His mind spun like a broken compass. Zurich was an empty promise. There was no cold-storage server holding secrets of election bribes. He had bluffed to save his life on the cliffside, but in doing so, he had merely bought a ticket to a far more terrifying execution. If they arrived at the private banking district in Paradeplatz and discovered the vault held nothing but old Swiss francs and worthless bond certificates, Beatrice would not hesitate to have him buried in an Alpine ravine.

His smartphone lay crushed on the coastal highway, but the driver’s dashboard display glowed softly in the darkness. News headlines cycled continuously across the satellite radio monitor:

STERLING CAPITAL FACES COLLAPSE: FOUNDER SOUGHT FOR QUESTIONING BY INTERPOL AND U.S. MARSHALS.

Below that ticker was a smaller, more vicious update:

ELENA VANCE SPOTTED AT CHARITY GALA IN MONACO, SMILING AMID CORPORATE TURMOIL.

Julian gritted his teeth, a bitter rage bubbling up through his paralyzing fear. Elena was drinking champagne with princesses and diplomats while he was being driven at gunpoint into the Alps. She had cast him out like garbage, without even deigning to watch the final blow land.

The car crossed the Swiss border through a private commercial lane without even stopping; a brief flash of the driver's credential card was enough for the border guards to wave them through with deferential bows.

""We will reach Zurich before midnight,"" Beatrice announced suddenly, breaking the hours-long silence. ""The vault manager has been awakened. He is opening the subterranean archive for us personally.""

Julian’s throat constricted. ""Beatrice, it’s late. The security protocols for that specific vault require two-factor biometric authorization that can only be unlocked during daylight trading hours—""