*Michael*
I waited for twenty minutes outside a seedy bodega; the sidewalk in front of the store was glowing from the neon signs in the window. The entire place smelled of stale beer and urine. Just when I had enough and was contemplating walking away, a man in a black tracksuit bumped into me, slipping a large padded envelope under my arm.
“Watch where you’re going next time,” he called as he walked away from me.
I tucked the package further under my arm and walked away from the fluorescent lighting. As I rounded the corner, I pulled out the envelope and ripped it open. I kept walking, seemingly aimlessly as I pulled the contents out. A pile of papers was crammed inside, and on top was a bright yellow note.
*So far I’ve been able to trace 100 million to an offshore account. The account is registered to a women’s boutique that doesn’t exist. The funds haven’t moved since the original hack. I’ve included all of the evidence I found. P.S. Don’t forget to pay the man.*