NICOLE
The first sliver of sunrise, a thin line of orange and pink, cuts across the Tokyo skyline. I've been at this for four hours straight.
The encrypted folder is now a comprehensive dossier. It contains the raw data, my summary report, and a separate, shorter version written in more sensational terms—perfect for a journalist.
Because I'm not just sending this to Ishida. I'm sending it to Chiasa Aoki, a notoriously relentless financial reporter for the Nikkei. If the bureaucracy moves slowly, the court of public opinion will not. A simultaneous shock to the system.
My hands hover over the keyboard. This is the point of no return. Once I do this, there is no undoing it. The world will know. The markets will react violently. People will go to jail.
A wave of dizziness washes over me. I haven't eaten. I haven't slept. I grip the edge of the desk, my knuckles white.
