Chapter 12 - Shadows in SoHo
The SoHo art studio was a bright, airy loft with massive industrial windows that flooded the hardwood floors with golden afternoon light. For years, it had been Clara’s creative sanctuary, a place where she could lose herself in oils and acrylics while the noise of the city faded away.
As we walked through the double doors, the familiar scent of linseed oil and turpentine welcomed us.
“See?” Clara smiled, stepping over to her easel and picking up a palette knife. “It’s just like old times.”
I stood near the oversized windows, scanning the street below with the practiced eye of a man who never fully turned off his perimeter awareness. The two black SUVs parked down the block were manned by my trusted men, and the building’s private security had been reinforced under Victor’s direct supervision.
Everything was secure.
Or so I thought.
My phone buzzed sharply in my pocket. I pulled it out, expecting a routine logistics report from Victor. Instead, it was an encrypted priority alert from our intelligence division.
“Boss, we have an anomaly. One of Marcus Sterling’s former junior business associates—a man named Gregory Vance, no relation to the doctor—just landed at JFK from Zurich. He’s carrying encrypted communications flagged under legacy Sterling accounts.”
My blood turned cold. I thought we had scrubbed every trace of their financial network.
May you like
“Track him,” I typed back instantly, my fingers flying across the screen. “Find out who he’s meeting and what he’s carrying. Do not let him out of your sight.”
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