As the first bells of the shipping district ships chimed, there was obvious satisfaction in Adrian's eyes.
The correction had been immediate.
By 0600 hours this morning, the rerouted blood-transport shipment had rolled into the Vanguard distribution hub.
Not a single seal was broken; not a single liter was missing. In fact, Victor had included a "gesture of goodwill"—a localized tax credit on Neutral Zone transit for the next three fiscal quarters.
The underworld didn't need a press release to understand what had happened. The whispers began in the dive bars of the docks and ended in the high-rise penthouses of the other houses.
Lucian stood by the central holographic array, his coffee untouched and cooling on the mahogany surface.
"Victor folded too fast," Lucian said. His voice was a low, dangerous rasp. "He's an old rat, but he's a rat with pride. He wouldn't have handed over a tax credit unless he was terrified of something more than my ledger freeze."
