I chose the meeting place. A hotel lounge in Midtown. Public enough that Luca Ferraro could not pretend I had come to him on his terms, private enough that we could talk without microphones in our faces. Mikhail was in the building because I had agreed to that. He was

My attorney wanted a written statement. The reporters wanted a confession. I gave them records. At eleven the next morning, Moretti Blooms was closed to customers for exactly one hour. I stood behind the front counter with my attorney beside me and the independ

The ledger photograph was real. At least, the part we could verify was. My accountant matched the merchant ID, Vela abbreviation, and Carlo's approval code against the records we already had. The handwriting pattern on the page also matched the three lines I had seen through