Chapter 76:
Just then, the shrill ring of his phone broke the tense silence.
Hamilton made the call.
“Mr. Green, we’ve got a hit from Quick Cameo!”
“Good. Send Quick Cameo the location right away,” Rhys replied.
At the same moment, a message popped up on Harlee’s phone.
She unlocked the message to see an encrypted script scattered across the screen.
Harlee had crafted this unique cipher to keep communications with clients.
As Harlee decoded the message, a frown formed on her face, and she cast a glance back at the distant auction house, now five kilometers behind.
She turned toward the driver and said, “Sir, could we turn around, please?”
Had she been aware that their destination was the auction house, she would have refrained from traveling this far.
“Absolutely,” the driver replied promptly.
“Mr. Green, our contact is on site,” Hamilton said as he stepped into the room.
Just ten minutes? Could it be? A seed of skepticism sprouted in Rhys’s mind, but he quickly pushed it aside.
He checked the time and then rose from his seat.
“Let’s go.”
gⱯlnσν𝒆𝓁s․com, the heart of storytelling
Harlee made her way to the auction house’s uppermost level, confronting a massive door that towered over two meters tall, its surface intricately carved with motifs of clouds, wildlife, and mythical creatures, radiating an aura of ancient mystery.
Positioned on either side were two adept bodyguards who swung open the doors simultaneously.
The room inside lacked any windows.
At that instant, a group of more than a dozen hackers were intently stationed at their computers.
Their fingers darted across the keyboards, their expressions wrought with tension, perspiration dotting their foreheads in the oppressive air, punctuated only by the rhythmic tapping of keys.
Harlee’s gaze drifted downward, observing the swift stream of code on a monitor, her eyes reflecting a trace of amusement.
This was, after all, fitting for a transaction worth three hundred million.
“Quick Cameo, you’re half an hour late,” a voice rang out from a shadowy corner of the room.
Even through a voice changer, the masculine tone was unmistakable.
Harlee traced the source of the voice, barely making out the figure of a man seated in the shadows, his features shrouded.
Clients typically protect their anonymity fiercely.
In Roystin’s bustling metropolis of Multitopia, only someone from an elite financial empire could finance such an endeavor.
“Apologies, I was delayed by unforeseen issues,” Harlee said, accepting blame.
The man’s voice grew stern, his words laced with rebuke and pressure.
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