The administrative building stood like an imposing structure in the middle of the northern commercial district, a mass of concrete and smoked glass that seemed to silently observe those who dared to cross its threshold. With several tiered floors and a modern design devoid of unnecessary ornamentation, it exuded a professional coolness that spoke of efficiency, order, and control.
The exterior walls, covered with stainless steel panels, reflected the gray afternoon sky, while the tinted windows hid everything happening inside.
William walked with a firm stride along the wide, polished sidewalk that led to the automatic doors, escorted by his two trusted men. Bentral, tall, and athletic, he kept his gaze straight ahead, attentive to every movement around him without appearing tense. Beside him, Xander walked with his hands clasped behind his back, his bearing more relaxed than the other alphas, but equally vigilant. They both knew that this place, although safe, required the same caution as any dark street.
No terrain was completely neutral when the Aballay name was present.
As they approached, a uniformed guard stepped forward from a small side post, immediately opening the reinforced door without needing to ask for identification. A few moments of seeing the dark-haired man were enough to recognize him.
William responded to the gesture with a slight nod, without pausing for a second. Inside, the black marble floors reflected the trio's footsteps, while the dark wood-paneled walls and indirect lighting gave the space a sober yet expensive atmosphere.
The reception desk, staffed by a young beta woman with a sharp gaze, barely glanced at them, already accustomed to such visitors. With a quick nod, she indicated the hallway at the back, where a security door waited open, granting access to the lower level of the building.
The group moved forward without a word, crossing a soundproof corridor whose doors on either side bore electronic codes without any visible markings. Finally, they stopped in front of an office marked only by a silver line on the wall.
William extended a hand, touching a panel on the wall, and after a brief biometric verification, the door slid silently to the side, allowing them entry.
The interior was a stark contrast to the coldness outside.
The office, though equally spare, displayed meticulous organization, with a solid wooden desk that ran alongside a wall of metal shelving, piled high with labeled folders, thick envelopes, and classified boxes.
On the opposite wall, a series of screens displayed aerial images, territorial maps, trade statistics, and financial records in real time.
Behind the desk, sitting with his back straight and his attention focused on his computer, sat a thin, middle-aged man with black-framed glasses and neatly slicked-back hair.
"Mr. Aballay, I was expecting you," the clerk said without standing up, although his tone made it clear that the alpha's punctuality was customary and welcome.
William didn't respond immediately. He closed the door with a gesture and walked toward the desk while his companions stood by the entrance, attentive but not interfering.
"Let's begin," the dark-haired man ordered, placing the black briefcase on the desk and opening it with a quick combination. He extracted several neatly arranged documents, all classified by specific sections.
One of them, with details about a property recently seized by legal intermediaries, was the first he slid toward the clerk.
"This land is clean. I want you to put it under the name of one of our shell companies before the end of the week," William indicated, pointing to certain paragraphs. "Use the account designated for rural operations. I don't want any obvious traces of our main firms."
"Understood," the clerk replied, quickly flipping through the document. "Do you want me to include it in the active property portfolio?"
"No. Keep it inactive for now," the alpha clarified as he moved on to the second, thicker envelope, loaded with attachments, photographs, and minutes. This one, when opened, revealed the information of a disused building located in the city center, one that used to belong to a now-defunct syndicate.
"This one is more delicate. I want you to redirect the deeds to a newly formed cooperative. You have the documents ready, right?"
"Yes, I prepared it last week as you instructed. I just need you to sign here and here," the clerk indicated, pushing two forms. William signed quickly, without needing to reread. He'd already memorized every line when he initially approved them.
"Also, I want that property to go unnoticed during municipal inspections," he added. "Use the contact from Town Planning. The one who likes expensive cognac."
"He's already received his thank-you box. He won't object," the clerk replied as he slipped the signed papers into a sealed folder and placed them in one of the deeper filing boxes at the back of the metal shelf.
The exchange continued for over an hour. William carefully reviewed each property involved, from suburban wineries to establishments masquerading as charities.
There were reports of fictitious projects, covert transfers, planned investments in growing areas, and contracts signed by front companies, all meticulously prepared so that no thread led to the Aballays' main network of operations.
Each step involved false names, rounded figures, payments distributed among several intermediaries, and carefully measured favors to keep the machinery lubricated without arousing suspicion.
During the process, William constantly observed the clerk's every gesture, every pause in his breathing, every blink. Any doubt, any hesitation could mean a crack.
But there were no mistakes. That man, as unremarkable as he seemed, was an essential cog in the machine, and that's why he was paid well, and why he also lived under constant surveillance.
In the world, efficiency was rewarded, but betrayal was punished without warning.
Once they'd finished the paperwork, they both leaned over one of the screens to review an interactive map of the recently modified transportation routes.
William approved them without delay. The new routes would not only allow for faster freight movement but also avoid inspections by shifting traffic to less-monitored times. Everything fits together.
"I want every truck on Route 3 to now have an internal chassis compartment. Make it look like part of the original design," the alpha ordered, pointing to a specific spot on the map.
"It'll be difficult, but I have the right people for the job. I'll send you the plans as soon as they're ready."
William nodded. No further details were needed. The job was done.
.
.
.
After completing the necessary paperwork, the alpha and beta duo left the building, bidding farewell to the guard with the same quiet efficiency with which they had arrived. Once inside the vehicle, with the engine running and the air conditioning regulated, the beta turned slightly to glance at her boss.
"What's next, boss?" she asked, her tone relaxed but ready for action.
"Let's go to the bar... we have important things to do," William replied, his gaze already focused on the horizon as he prepared for what would come next.