[Jake's POV]
The flight to Zurich was not a commercial affair.
When you declare open war on a Swiss billionaire who controls the European Central Bank, you don't fly first class. You fly in a heavily modified Gulfstream G650 owned by a shell company buried so deep in the University's endowment fund that not even the NSA could trace it.
I sat in the plush leather seat of the private jet, staring out the window at the endless expanse of the Atlantic Ocean below. The sun was just beginning to rise, casting a pale, bruised light over the clouds. The hum of the jet engines was a low, constant vibration against the soles of my boots.
The cabin was quiet, but it wasn't peaceful. It was the heavy, suffocating silence that always precedes a bloodbath.
