“One Billion Four Hundred and Twenty Million Dollars.”
Caldwell gestured to the open cargo hatch of the M/V Sovereign Tide:
“Inside Hold One sits an automated, cryogenic bio-extraction suite engineered by Dr. Sebastian Kane. The procedure will take precisely four minutes. We will extract the amniotic stem cells containing the Project Chronos ciphers, synthesize the master keys, and transmit the data via satellite to our Swiss servers.”
“And my child?” I asked, my voice dropping into that terrifying, absolute stillness that precedes a hurricane.
Caldwell gave a small, dismissive shrug:
“A biological necessity, Laura. The extraction will terminate the pregnancy. But you will be generously compensated. I will deposit fifty million dollars into an offshore trust in Grand Cayman in your name, and you will be permitted to live out your days in our family villa in Lake Como.”
Diego Vance lifted his bruised, tear-streaked face from the concrete, crying out in hysterical desperation:
