The Zurich Opera House was a cathedral of gold and velvet. Security was tighter than a vacuum—biometric scanners at every entrance.
"Mr. and Mrs. Sterling," the head of security said, checking their "stolen" credentials. "The Architect is expecting you in the Diamond Box."
They walked through the crowd, a perfect vision of power and wealth. Silas's hand was anchored on Elara's waist, his fingers subtly checking the weight of the compact pistol hidden in her garter.
"There he is," Elara whispered.
At the center of the VIP box sat a man in his sixties, his hair perfectly silver, his presence commanding the room. Beside him was the Director of the CIA.
The Architect turned. He didn't look like a monster. He looked like a statesman. He smiled as he saw Elara.
"Elara. My darling girl. I always knew you were too clever to die in a common hotel fire."
Silas felt Elara's body turn to ice. He stepped forward, putting himself slightly in front of her. "She's a Vance, Architect. We're hard to kill."
"And you must be the Ghost," the Architect said, gesturing to a seat. "The man who ruined my daughter's career... and then stole her heart. Sit. Let us discuss the future of the world over Mozart."
As Silas sat, he felt a sharp prick in his thigh. He looked down. A needle was retracting into the armrest of the chair.
"Don't reach for your gun, Silas," the Architect said smoothly. "The toxin is fast-acting. In sixty seconds, your heart will stop unless I press this remote. Now, Elara... be a good daughter and give me the Ares Key. Or watch your husband die in front of the finest audience in Switzerland."