Zach Syps stepped out of the limo with a briefcase full of nothing and a fake ring in his pocket. The paparazzi swarmed him on the curb, shouting his name, shoving lenses at his face. He kept his chin down and pushed through. The agency had spent six months building this cover, and the whole play came down to the next ten minutes. If he walked out of the black tower with Mr. B's confession and the real ring, the man who owned half of Yew Nork City was finished. If he didn't, no one would find the body. The elevator climbed forty floors in silence. Two guards boarded at the lobby and stood behind him, one at each shoulder. Zach watched the numbers tick and rehearsed the meeting in his head. Offer the ring. Wait for the case of money to open. Get the confession on the wire under his collar. Put a hand on the gun taped inside the briefcase before anyone got clever. Simple, if Mr. B stayed greedy for six more minutes. The office doors opened on a wall of glass and a small bald man in a tuxedo behind a desk the size of a car. Mr. B smiled and slid a silver case across the wood. Zach flipped the latches. Cash, banded, real. He set the ring beside it. Mr. B lifted the ring to the lamp, turned it once, and his smile went flat. "The scrollwork is wrong," he said. Zach's hand found the gun. Mr. B did not look up. "Throw him off the building." The nearest guard moved before Zach cleared the briefcase. A fist took the wind out of him. A shoulder drove him back into the window. The glass held, then split, then gave. They went through together. They landed hard on the scaffolding two floors down. Pipes clanged. Zach's ribs screamed. The guard was bigger and already on his feet, swinging a wrench he'd torn from the rail. Zach ducked, took the blow on his shoulder, and drove his head into the man's chest. They grappled along the plank, forty floors of air on either side. The guard got both hands on Zach's throat and pushed him toward the edge. Zach kicked the loose pipe at his feet. It rolled. The guard's boot went with it. For half a second the man's eyes were very wide, and then he was gone. Zach did not hear him land. He lay flat on the plank and breathed. Above him, a window frame gaped open where Mr. B was already on the phone, already moving the ring, already gone. Zach spat blood onto the steel and started climbing down. The cover was burned. The job was not.