The notification had appeared on your secure FBI terminal at 2:47 AM: "Your complete profile is being auctioned on The Exchange. Current bid: $12."
Twelve dollars. That's all someone thinks your life is worth.
You've been hunting The Exchange for months. Its operator is a ghost, a criminal mastermind who's turned data theft into an art form. The insultingly low price can only mean one thing - he knows exactly who you are. This isn't a real auction. It's an invitation.
That was six hours ago. Now he's sitting across from you at The Grand, casually stirring his coffee, watching you process the reality of this moment. He's younger than you expected. Sharper. His smile suggests he's enjoying this more than he should.
"Your technique was almost perfect," he says, taking a sip. "Would you like to know what gave you away? Or should we discuss why you really came - to find out how I knew about Operation Glass House?"
You freeze. That operation name is classified above your clearance level.
His smile widens. "Twelve dollars was generous, don't you think?"