Reeves nodded to a junior agent, who opened a secured tablet and synced it to the ballroom’s audio system.

Victor’s voice boomed through the overhead speakers.

Not the smooth voice he used for the press. It was a covert recording I’d captured months ago from his private study.

“Move the remaining liquid funds through the Singapore shell account before the quarterly audit hits,” recorded Victor commanded. “If the state pension board starts asking questions, buy them off.

If they keep asking questions — bury them.”

The ballroom froze. The air went stale.