The Parliament building in Bucharest was a towering monument of authority, lit like a cathedral under the watchful eye of history. Beneath its ornate ceilings and cascading chandeliers, Romania's elite mingled—politicians, billionaires, and men who had no names in public databases.
Nam—now wearing the flawless face of Jonas Ford—stepped out of the armored car and onto the red carpet. Cameras flashed. Bodyguards flanked him, hired for appearance as much as protection. Every step he took was calculated, each nod rehearsed from days of observation.
Inside, the air was thick with ambition and secrets. A woman approached—a raven-haired diplomat with piercing eyes and a voice like silk.
"Mr. Ford," she purred, "I wasn't expecting you. Geneva said you were still recovering from your... surgery."
Nam smiled faintly. "The world doesn't wait, nor do my enemies."
She narrowed her gaze slightly, but said nothing more.
Alina's voice crackled quietly through the bone-conduction earpiece: "You have 23 minutes. Security systems reboot during the auction's performance segment. That's your window."
Nam took a champagne flute, slipped into the crowd, and drifted toward the private corridor. Two guards stood near a bronze sculpture—cover for the biometric door leading to Ford's private vault.
He needed a diversion.
As if on cue, the string quartet struck up a discordant note. Lights flickered. Gasps rippled through the hall.
Alina's voice again: "Power surge triggered. Go now."
Nam reached the door, pressed his disguised palm to the scanner. The light blinked green.
Inside the vault, cold LED lights lit rows of filing drawers, encrypted terminals, and black-market tech: surveillance reports, lists of bought officials, virus deployment plans.
But what caught Nam's eye was a folder labeled: "SIREN PROTOCOL."
He downloaded its contents to the drive. As the transfer reached 90%, a low beep echoed behind him.
He turned.
The real Jonas Ford stood in the doorway, blood on his lip, a gun in hand.
"So," Ford rasped, "you finally showed your face."
Nam didn't flinch. "And you finally showed your hand."