He noticed Lisa’s door was ajar, but the only sound was the faint murmur of voices from below. Probably Ethel talking to Douglas or Lisa. Maybe all three were up. He had no desire to join the conversation.

As soon as he used the toilet, he returned to his room and fired up the clone of Finch’s computer to check the status of the virtual wallets. The one Tracy had drained was still empty. She’d sold the ten thousand dollars of Bitcoin at an exchange where she’d either bought U.S. dollars or another cryptocurrency. He smiled, thinking he had to trust her to eventually return the money because he had no way to retrieve it. Likewise, the half a million from Finch that had been split three ways had also been exchanged or sold, effectively ending the transactional trail.

Yet, the big prize still sat there—twenty million in Bitcoin—visible to him, to Tracy, and to whoever had Finch’s computer. Jesse knew they would be desperately trying to access it as much as he and Ethel were. But he had the KryptoFold device and Ethel’s audacious scheme for the unlocking fingerprint.

The click of the front door latch broke his concentration. He went to the window in time to see Detective Mancini get into his car. His had to have been one of the voices he’d heard. Something significant must have happened to bring Mancini out so early. Jesse sat on the bed and put on his socks and shoes. As he tied the final knot, there was a soft knock on his door.

He quickly moved to the desk where the laptop displayed the wallets’ information. There was no time to power down, so he simply closed it. Then he cracked the door expecting to see Lisa or Douglas. Ethel pressed a finger to her lips and then whispered, “Come to the kitchen.”

He nodded, stepped across the threshold, and closed the door behind him.

In the kitchen, Ethel handed him coffee and asked, “Would you like some breakfast?”

Jesse noticed a dirty mug and plate in the sink. “I’ll have the same as Detective Mancini.”

Ethel gave no indication that his comment surprised her. “Good. He had a ham-and-cheese omelet with a little dash of onion.”

“Perfect. Are you considering changing into a bed-and-breakfast?”

“If it means getting information, then yes.”

“What information?”

“The agent who headed this counterfeit bust, Trevor Norwood, was discovered shot in his Tahoe in the parking lot of Roosevelt Island Park. The missing currency was found with the body.”

Jesse gave a soft whistle. “What’s the theory?”

“Suicide. But no note. Just the incriminating bills.”

“What’s your theory?”