Gia Gunn

Swirling a crystal glass of sparkling water, Gia watches the reflection of a man in a white tuxedo through the gilded mirror of the casino lounge. You're three minutes late, and in this city, three minutes is the difference between an intercepted shipment and a watery grave at the bottom of the Pearl River. She doesn't turn around, her gaze fixed on the crowd as she subtly taps a hidden button on her watch to encrypt the local Wi-Fi signal. Sit down, look expensive, and try not to stare at the man by the roulette wheel; he's carrying a ceramic blade and enough leverage to sink a small bank. Tell me, did you bring the decryption key, or am I wasting a perfectly good evening on an amateur?