Page 4 of Over the Edge

His smile sharpened with approval. “A refreshingly honest answer.”

“I find honesty expedites business.” I leaned forward, dropping my voice. “The Sentinel system. I’ve heard whispers that it’s... revolutionary.”

Moreau chuckled. “You have excellent sources, Ms. Deveraux. Most people don’t even know it exists.”

“I’m not most people.” I gestured at the black case on the table. “And is that a preview of what you’re offering?”

His gaze flickered to the case, then back to me. “Merely a demonstration model. A taste of what the Sentinel system can achieve.”

“May I?” I reached for the case, but Moreau’s hand shot out, capturing my wrist. His grip was too tight, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me wince.

“Patience, Ms. Deveraux.” His thumb traced slow circles against my pulse point. “First, I need to be certain you’re a serious buyer.”

“I didn’t come all this way for a cocktail and conversation.” I eased my wrist from his grip. “My resources are considerable, as I’m sure your research has confirmed. I’m prepared to offer five million euros as a down payment, which can be immediately transferred to any account of your choice. Consider it a demonstration of my commitment.”

“Money is only part of the equation.” Moreau leaned back, studying me with those predator’s eyes. “I need to know your intentions.”

I laughed softly. “I thought arms dealers preferred not to ask such questions.”

“Most don’t.” He moved to sit next to me, too close, our shoulders brushing. His fingers trailed over my shoulder. “But, as I said downstairs, you’re not like most of my clientele. I’m intrigued by you, Ms. Deveraux. A beautiful woman with seemingly unlimited resources suddenly appearing in my world with an interest in my most coveted technology?” He tilted his head slightly. “One might wonder if there’s more to your story.”

I maintained my composure, letting a hint of impatience cross my features. “I assure you, my story is quite straightforward. I have wealth that needs protecting in a world that is growing increasingly hostile toward people of our… social class.”

“Ah, the pitchforks are coming for the wealthy,” Moreau said with a knowing smile. “Is that what keeps you up at night?”

“What keeps me up is the knowledge that wealth alone isn’t enough anymore. The rules are changing. Political winds shift overnight. What was protected yesterday is vulnerable today.” I gestured toward the case. “I need capabilities, not just capital.”

His expression shifted, a hint of respect flickering across his features. He reached for the case, fingers hovering over the latches. “The Sentinel system represents the next evolution in targeted operations. Undetectable by conventional radar. Facial recognition at five thousand feet. Payloads customized to mission parameters.”

The lid swung open, revealing a velvet-lined interior. A miniature drone nestled inside, no larger than a hummingbird. Its metallic surface gleamed with an iridescent sheen under the chandelier light.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Moreau’s voice dropped to a near whisper as he lifted the tiny device. “Imagine targeting a single individual in a crowd of thousands. No collateral damage. No witnesses. No second chances. One of these is deadly. But a swarm…” His eyes gleamed in a way that made my skin crawl. “A swarm can take down governments.”

My pulse quickened. This wasn’t just a technological marvel. It was a nightmare made of metal and circuitry. The tiny device looked innocuous, but could reshape global politics from the shadows.

No wonder Edge refused to abort this op, even after the operative who built this cover died.

I leaned closer, making sure my neckline gaped open, giving him a view of my lacy bra. I didn’t have to fake my interest. “How many in a swarm?”

“The standard deployment is twelve, but the system can coordinate up to fifty individual units simultaneously.” Moreau’s eyes lingered on my chest. “Each one capable of delivering a customized payload: toxins, explosives, or...” he paused for effect, “...something more elegant.”

“Such as?”

“Imagine a microfilament thinner than a human hair, but stronger than titanium. One that slices through carotid arteries with surgical precision. Death appears natural. A stroke, perhaps. Or a heart attack.” His fingers brushed my neck, following the path of my carotid artery. “No one would ever know.”

I suppressed a shudder, maintaining my façade of fascination. “And the range?”

“Twenty kilometers, with complete autonomy. Once programmed, they don’t need remote operation. They find their target, execute, and return.” He placed the miniature drone back in its case. “Or self-destruct, leaving no evidence.”

“May I hold it?” I made my voice breathless, as if all this talk of death and destruction was turning me on.

“Another time,” he said, closing the case with a decisive click. “This is merely a prototype. The full system is... elsewhere.”

Perfect. I moistened my lips, deliberately drawing his attention. His eyes tracked the movement, as I’d intended.

“You’ve gone to considerable trouble to meet me, Ms. Deveraux,” he said, moving closer. His thigh pressed against mine, warm through the thin silk of my dress. “I wonder what else you might be willing to do to secure this technology.”

I let my lashes lower, a coy smile playing at my lips. “I’m willing to negotiate, of course.”

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