Seventeen Minutes on Route 18 Wrecked an Eighteen-Million-Dollar Corporate Buyout
Nobody smiled.
The attorney wrote a line and underlined it.
Gavin turned to me with a face I had never seen him wear.
“Cards get cloned.
Anybody in this building could walk up those stairs.”
“The camera on that floor went dark at ten-fifty and came back at midnight,” the attorney said.
“That takes an administrator account.”
Nina put the pen in her pocket.