Singh frowned. "Then they had technical knowledge of your systems—or inside help."
Kathleen looked down. Her hands felt suddenly cold.
"We’ll begin tracking the funds," Singh continued. "The offshore account in Hunt’s name may give us leverage, but she’ll have buffers in place. Still, this is a grand felony—intellectual property theft, conspiracy, and attempted sale of classified research.”
Kathleen exhaled. "What happens now?"
"We start the clock," Ramirez said. "We’ll issue a quiet subpoena to the hosting platform and begin backtracking the encryption. You’ll be assigned a contact here at the office. And we’d recommend you increase your personal security in the meantime."
Singh handed her a card. "This is me. Call if anything changes, day or night. Don’t try to access the auction site again. Leave that to us."
Kathleen took the card with shaking fingers. "Okay. Thank you."
Singh stood up. “It has been a pleasure to meet you, Kathleen.” Her face crinkled into a smile and softened. “I think I’ll be telling my grandchildren that I once met the famous Dr Knowles.”
Kathleen stepped out into the sunlight feeling ten pounds lighter—and twice as exposed. She turned her face toward the sun, blinking against the glare. Somewhere out there, Darlene Hunt still thought she was winning.
But that was about to change.
As she walked toward Foley Square, she checked her phone. There was a new message from Veronica:Call me when you’re out. I want to know everything.
Kathleen texted back,Give me ten minutes. I need air.
She walked for several blocks, weaving through lunchtime foot traffic, the crush of city workers pouring out of buildings. Her mind spun. She was in it now—truly in it. She’d stepped into the machine.
Outside a small café near Centre Street, she finally sat down and called Veronica. Her voice was low, nearly steady.
"I did it. I handed over the files. They’re taking it seriously. Very seriously."
Veronica let out a long breath. "I knew they would. You’re safe, Kathleen. I’m proud of you."
Kathleen didn’t feel proud. Not yet. Not until it was over. Not until she knew the auction had been stopped and Darlene was held accountable. For now, she was tired, bracing for whatever came next.
That evening, Kathleen went to Veronica’s apartment. The door opened before she knocked, Veronica standing barefoot in the doorway with a tired, cautious smile.
"You made it."
Kathleen stepped inside, kicked off her shoes, placing them against the wall, allowing herself a moment to sink into the quiet calm of the room.
Veronica poured them each a glass of wine and they settled onto the couch.
"So," Kathleen said. "What now?"
Veronica leaned back. "Now we figure out how Darlene got her hands on your data."
Kathleen set down her glass. "It has to be someone from the Institute.”
"Then we find out who," Veronica said. "And we do it Saturday night."
Kathleen frowned. "At the cocktail party?"
Veronica nodded. "Everyone will be there. Ask Edith to bring Darlene. Say you were quite taken with her or some bullshit like that. We’ll watch, listen. I’ll get close."
Kathleen hesitated. "Will you come with me?"
“Should I? Your parents will be there.”
"It’s the only way I can justify you being there is to come with me.”
