Victor sat in the back of the black sedan, the city lights smearing across the tinted glass like oil on water. He wasn't told where the car was headed, only that Mr. Voss expected him. The word expected carried the weight of both invitation and command.
The ride ended at a tower of glass and steel, its top floors gleaming against the night sky. Inside, security was silent but absolute. No words, no smilesjust nods and scans, escorts and locked elevators. When the final doors opened, Victor stepped into a suite that looked less like an office and more like the lair of a man who thought in continents, not contracts.
Conrad Voss reclined in a high-backed leather chair, the Sydney skyline behind him a wall of stars and skyscrapers. His pale eyes flicked up as Victor entered, and with a gesture more regal than polite, he motioned to the chair opposite.
"Mr. Dane," Conrad said, his voice smooth, deliberate. "Sit."
Victor did. No handshake was offered. None expected.
