“Run the card.”

Greg slid the card through his reader.

The machine blinked yellow, processed for ten seconds, then turned solid green.

A thin paper receipt curled out of the top slot.

I signed the slip and pushed it back through the hole in the plastic.

Greg handed me a printed slip with a six-digit gate code and a brass master key.

“Will Derek try to cut a deal to save himself when he finds out we found this place?” I asked.

“Fraud suspects usually try to bargain,” Rebecca said.