Òyì nke e mepụtara

You compose two separate encrypted messages, targeting your desired acquisitions with precision. The first goes to the handler listing Isabella Ruiz, the second to whoever controls Marisol Santos' profile. Your phone rings within twelve minutes. Laura Castellano's face appears on the secure video connection again, but this time she's not alone. A man sits beside her—older, maybe fifty, with salt-and-pepper hair and the kind of face that's seen things it doesn't discuss. "Dominic, this is my un