The digital clock on the secure tablet read **00:09**.
Alistair’s hand lay collapsed on the screen, his chest heaving with the violence of his effort. William stared at the display. The buffering wheel spun–a gray circle of death against the white background of the Swiss banking interface.
“Processing,” Malcolm whispered, his voice tight with panic. “Come on…”
**00:05.**
The wheel kept spinning. The satellite connection to Zurich was struggling to encrypt five billion dollars in illicit assets.
**00:03.**
Beatrice turned away, unable to watch the ruin of her family.
**00:01.**
Just as the timer hit zero, the screen flashed a brilliant, solid green.
**TRANSACTION COMPLETE. SYNDICATE LEDGER: SETTLED.**
A collective breath left the room, sounding like a vacuum seal breaking. The debt that had hung over the Croft legacy like a guillotine blade had vanished into the ether, paid for by the very blood money Alistair had hoarded for a decade.