Los Angeles, Century City, top floor office of Singh Law Firm.
Matty Singh stood before his massive floor-to-ceiling window, overlooking the dazzling nightscape of Los Angeles.
But he wasn't looking at the scenery; instead, his gaze was fixed on the tablet in his hand, where a K-line chart surged wildly like the spine of a prehistoric beast.
Unlike Scoot, who was restless, or Brian, who remained aloof, he stood like a patient vulture awaiting the scent of blood, his eyes glistening with a horrifying light of excitement and greed.
When his untraceable private phone rang, he pressed the answer button almost immediately.
"Lin?"
"Matty, the party's over," came the voice of Lin Yu'an.
"Roger that!" Matty's response was brisk and forceful, as if pulling a trigger. His voice brimmed with uncontrollable excitement and a hint of bloodthirsty pleasure.
