They mapped out distribution like surgeons planning cuts. Bits to pressmen, bits to unions, bits to clergy, bits to exiles who would scream into the net. Each piece designed to hurt a different tendon in the body of power. Each meant someone somewhere would lose safety.
The first blow landed two nights later. A convoy seized accounts. A public official resigned under a cloud of denials and contradictions. The word "probe" appeared in papers and carried the smell of unexpected hope. People who had once slept through council scandals woke to shout.
And then a child's market closed because the family had been frightened by threats in the night. The ledger had opened a wound; men who lived upstairs in clean suits could not see the infection sliding down.
