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The guard shifted uncomfortably. Internal tension within Knox's organization, another potential leverage point.

"Delay tactics won't help your situation."

"Not tactics. Strategy." Ivy met his gaze squarely. "The releases are automated, timed, and distributed through channels you can't access."

"Show me."

"I'll need access to a secure browser. And obviously, my hands freed."

"Secure her to the chair," he instructed finally. "One hand free. Any attempt to communicate outside these parameters will be your last."

As the guard secured her to the metal chair with professional restraints, Ivy kept her expression neutral despite the small victory. She had bought time, maintained value, and created uncertainty.

Now she just needed to survive long enough for Julia to follow the trail she had left behind. And if there was one thing Ivy Monroe understood with absolute certainty, it was that Julia Scott would tear apart Phoenix Ridge itself to find her.

The guards led Ivy through the rusting maze of shipping containers to what appeared to be a makeshift command center in the shipyard's former administrative building. The contrast from her holding cell was jarring; the space was transformed into an incongruous island of luxury within the industrial wasteland. Designer furniture, original artwork, and technology that wouldn't reach public markets for months populatedthe room, looking transported from downtown's financial district.

Through the office's grimy windows, she could see what remained of Phoenix Ridge's once-thriving maritime industry: rusting cranes and abandoned dry docks, a kingdom of decay that emphasized Knox's immaculate appearance as he waited inside. The contrast wasn't accidental, Ivy realized. Knox cultivated juxtapositions that positioned him as the exception—order amid chaos, prosperity amid decline.

The guards secured her to a leather executive chair—one hand still free as promised, but with no illusions about escape.

"My home away from home," Knox remarked, noting her assessment. "I find industrial settings conducive to clear thinking."

Ivy cataloged every detail: the exits, the security cameras disguised as decorative elements, the subtle religious imagery woven throughout the space. Six portrait photographs hung in a winged formation. The angelic hierarchies Knox modeled his criminal enterprise after—his "archangels," senior lieutenants in the Seraphim Syndicate.

"Your religious affectations are a bit heavy-handed," she observed.

Knox smiled thinly. "I find organizational frameworks with historical longevity useful. The church has maintained hierarchy for millennia."

He positioned the laptop before her, standing just beyond arm's reach. Professional caution. The screen displayed a secure browser, confirming he'd taken her bait.

"Show me these scheduled releases," he directed.

Ivy flexed her free hand, mind racing through possibilities. She needed to maintain the illusion of cooperation while embedding signals in whatever she produced. Messages that would mean nothing to Knox but everything to Julia.

"The browser needs a secured TLS certificate for the authentication portal," she said, fingers dancing across the keyboard, each keystroke calculated, buying seconds that would accumulate into the minutes she needed.

"Your programming skills are unexpected," Knox observed.

"Financial forensics requires technicalexpertise," Ivy replied, continuing to work. "Digital money leaves digital footprints."

She carefully misspelled certain words in the command line—not enough to trigger suspicion, but in a pattern Julia would recognize as deliberate. The shipyard's district number. The specific dock designation. Coordinates hidden in plain sight.

"The releases are sequenced through redundant servers," she explained. "Removing one trigger point activates secondary protocols."

Knox's eyes narrowed. "An insurance policy."

"Exactly."

He moved closer, studying the screen. "And your insurance against me?"

"I'm obviously not suicidal," Ivy replied. "Kill me, and all remaining evidence releases simultaneously."

The threat hung between them, entirely fabricated but perfectly plausible. Knox's expression revealed the calculation behind his eyes.

"You've thought several moves ahead," he conceded. "Though not as many as you believe."

He gestured subtly. The guard with the military cut produced a phone, swiping to display a photograph. Ivy's breath caught despite her determination to reveal nothing.