The factory stayed silent. Upstairs, Mercer's body didn't move.
Downstairs, Corbin set the flash drive on the worktable. Vance leaned against the far end, watching.
"Vale?" Vance said.
"Yes. He's next," Corbin said. "But not tonight."
Vance folded his arms. "Eventually isn't a plan."
"It is when the rest is timing."
Corbin opened a laptop from the shelf and plugged in the drive. Files filled the screen. He opened a calendar.
"Summit tomorrow night," he said. "Private financial meeting downtown — investors, executives, government contractors. Vale's the key guest, and his detail will be heavy. The front door isn't an option."
"So we watch him?"
"No. We take him." Corbin closed the laptop. "Not from the room. We make his people move him, then we collect him where they're taking him."
Vance rubbed the back of his neck. "You're going to trigger a security response and steal him out of his own evacuation."
"Yes."
"You make that sound simple."
"It's not simple. It's just the only way that works."
Vance exhaled slowly. "And if the evacuation goes somewhere we can't follow?"
"Then we improvise."
"I hate that word."
"Noted," Corbin said.
* * *
The next evening the summit filled the downtown hotel. Black cars lined the perimeter. Guards checked credentials at every entrance.
Vale came in through a side door, two bodyguards at his shoulders. Four more waited inside. Two stayed out. Vale didn't trust people. He trusted systems.
Across the street, Vance sat behind the wheel of a black SUV. Corbin rode passenger in a dark security jacket, vest, earpiece.
"You look convincing," Vance said.
"That was the idea. It's a real uniform."
"Where'd you get it?"
"The original owner didn't need it anymore."
Vance glanced at the jacket. "He argue?"
"Briefly."
In Corbin's earpiece, a guard's voice crackled: "Eagle's inside. Repeat, Eagle's inside."
Vance glanced at him. "Eagle?"
"Vale," Corbin said.
Corbin checked his watch. "Three minutes."
"Until the disturbance?"
"Yes. It doesn't need to be subtle. It needs to move his guards at the same time."
Three minutes later a car pulled up hard at the main entrance. Two men got out shouting. Security converged. Then a second argument broke out on the far side of the building.
Earpieces crackled. Orders piled over radios. Guards left their posts to cover the chaos.
Vance glanced at Corbin. "That's our window."
"Stay with the vehicle."
Vance watched him reach for the door. "If this goes wrong—"
"It won't."
Corbin got out and crossed the street.
Inside the ballroom a guard reached Vale. "Sir, we're moving you now. There's a security issue outside, and we need to clear you out."
Vale frowned. "Which exit?"
"South service. Car's waiting."
The detail closed around Vale and walked him down a service hallway to a private exit. A black SUV sat at the curb.
The guard opened the rear door. Vale climbed in with two of his men. The doors slammed. The SUV pulled away.
Vale looked at the front seat. "Where are we going?"
"A safe location," the driver said.
Vale went still. The voice was wrong. He looked at the guard across from him — the uniform was right, but the man's eyes were on Vale the way a hunter watches something caged.
"Stop the vehicle," Vale said.
The driver didn't brake.
"I said stop the vehicle!"
One of his guards reached for the door handle. Vance's voice came level from the front seat. "I wouldn't."
The guard across from Vale pulled out his earpiece and met his eyes. "That won't be necessary."
Vale froze. He knew the face from contract photos and internal files.
"Corbin Hale," he whispered.
"The Ghost," Vance said from the front seat. "Try to look surprised."
Vale didn't.
Vale's hand moved inside his coat. Corbin's pistol was already up, level at his chest.
"Don't."
Vale went very still. "You won't shoot me. You need me."
"I need answers," Corbin said. "You're one way to get them."
The second guard went for his weapon. From the driver's seat, Vance: "Hands where we can see them."
Both guards raised their hands. Corbin stripped their guns and radios and kicked the weapons under his seat.
Vale stared. "How did you get past my people?"
"They were good," Corbin said. "They were also watching the disturbance. That was the point."
Vale's eyes narrowed. "My people will notice I'm gone."
"Eventually," Vance called from the front. "We're taking you somewhere quiet. It's a short drive."
"That's what people say before a long one," Vale said. He turned back to Corbin. "You killed Mercer."
"No. But you knew he was compromised, and you knew where he was staying. I'm going to ask you who used that information."
Vale's jaw worked. "Mercer was a problem for everyone."
"He was my problem. Not yours to solve."
"He dug too deep."
"He dug exactly deep enough."
Vale said nothing.
Corbin leaned forward. "Someone put my real name on that contract, and the authorization came from Level One. Start there."
"You don't understand what Level One is. You think I'm at the top?"
"You're the highest classification Mercer found."
"Mercer didn't know everything." Vale smiled coldly. "The contract wasn't designed to kill you, Corbin. Your identity disappeared years ago. They issued it to see if you were still alive — to bring you out of hiding."
"Who issued it?"
"I don't know. I saw the authorization request; I didn't write it. Someone above me wanted to see if the name was still active."
"You're lying."
"I'm not." Vale's voice stayed even.
"Then the truth isn't enough," Corbin said.
"And now they know the name is active."
Corbin studied him for a long moment.
"How much farther?" he asked Vance.
"Ten minutes."
One of the guards shifted in his seat. "Whatever you're planning—"
"Quiet," Corbin said, without looking at him.
Vale looked between them. "And then what?"
"Then we have a real conversation," Corbin said.
"People don't usually survive your conversations."
"People usually talk," Corbin said.