The room was cloaked in shadows, illuminated only by the flickering light of a laptop and the soft, warm glow of a smoldering cigar resting in an ashtray. Rafael Morales sank comfortably into an old leather chair, its surface worn and creased, shaped over countless hours of use. The chair was the sole hint of personality in the stark, windowless office, buried deep within a sprawling downtown shipping warehouse, the walls lined with crates and the faint hum of distant machinery echoing ...