“It’s not a conspiracy theory if it’s an actual, proven conspiracy. Thanks to this perfect opportunity to plunder your systems, I found proof. It’s all there. Bank account numbers, emails, electronic footprints—all the interesting material I need to convince any investigative body that there’s not collusion between Obsidian Corp. and LM Lymer Fleet, you’re outright double-dipping—getting paid to supply war machines to both sides. You might as well be the CEO of LM Lymer Fleet, not just Obsidian Corp.”

Vengerov said nothing. The slight smile had disappeared from his lips as he continued to examine the information Blackburn sent him.

Blackburn folded his arms and leaned back to gloat. “If that gets out, well, you can get away with a lot of it. I know our congressmen are so pathetically corrupt, a few bribes will send them eagerly looking the other way. . . . But there’s a funny thing about the Russians and the Chinese: they’ve both got that pesky national pride thing you can’t seem to drive out of them, and they don’t like being scammed. Let’s say I stick this info on the internet for the eyes of the eager public. That’s gonna lead to an outcry, and those princelings in China might have to make the best of a bad situation and nationalize LM Lymer Fleet’s assets. They’ll take them and hand them out to their kids. . . . What do you think?”

Vengerov closed the tablet computer, calmly tucked it in his pocket, and said in a deadly soft voice, “I think it was foolish of you to assume I’d simply let you walk out of here with this. Surely you’re not that careless.”

“You know me, after all. I’m touched. Of course I didn’t think you’d let me walk out with my plunder, no. That’s why I made sure the information already walked out of here. It left hours ago with the trainees. I distributed it between their processors as I stole it, and as soon as those kids were outside this building, they transmitted the data to one thousand different data storage sites.”

Vengerov seized the rail. “I will cull every last file location out of you!”

Blackburn rocked back on his heels, a ferocious grin on his face. “They’re set to a dead man’s switch. I have to send a password in . . . five hours and six minutes, or they’ll automatically open and reveal your double-dipping to the entire world. Oh, and here’s the best part: the password I wrote for them? It automatically deletes itself from my processor if I’m incapacitated, if any unauthorized code from, say, a census device finds its way into my brain, or if anything—and I mean anything—hinders my liberty of movement. You’re going to let me walk out of here, and you’re going to agree to my terms.”