Chapter - 322
The village of Gstaad was a playground for people who thought money was something you used to keep score, not something you spent. The streets were lined with Rolex shops, Prada boutiques, and banks that didn't have names, just numbers.
Rick, Sharon, and Nadia sat in a private booth at Le Chalet, a restaurant that looked rustic but cost more than a kidney transplant. A bubbling pot of cheese fondue sat in the center of the table.
They were out of their catering disguises. Rick was back in his midnight-blue suit, looking every inch the wealthy playboy. Sharon was in a sleek, backless dress that concealed a ceramic knife strapped to her thigh. Nadia was in a business suit, looking like a high-end broker.
On the table, pulsing with a faint, invisible frequency, sat the Black Market Beacon.
