The Red Envelope

Dante reached into the cavity, his fingers brushing past the cold metal of the lockbox to retrieve the envelope.

He didn't open it immediately.

Instead, he turned it over, examining the precise, unhurried tear along the flap and the distinct watermark on the heavy linen paper.

It was the exact same stationery used by the Federal Organized Crime Strike Force’s internal liaison office downtown.

Ninety minutes ago, Dante had walked into an abandoned warehouse on the south side for what was supposed to be a discreet sit-down with a corrupt port authority commissioner.

Instead, he had stepped into a crossfire of federal flashbangs and tactical gear.

Three elite agents had been waiting behind the loading dock doors, moving with a precision that suggested they had memorized his exact arrival time down to the second.

Dante had barely made it out through a secondary drainage tunnel, his shoulder grazed by a stray round, leaving his security detail scrambling to figure out how his secure itinerary had leaked.

He looked down at the envelope in his hand.

Then he looked back at the digital keypad on the black lockbox.

It wasn't a standard mechanical safe; it was tied directly to an encrypted satellite transmitter.

Sophie peeked out from behind the toilet tank, her magnifying glass swinging on its shoelace.

""Is that the bad guy's treasure?"" she whispered.