The sun came up over Manchester, bright like a spotlight on a stage. The sky was still a little foggy from the fireworks last night. Down below, the streets were still full of noise, people honking horns, singing, and cheering. Some fans hadn’t even gone to bed. They were still wearing their red and black clothes, still celebrating.

Up on the twelfth floor of his hotel, Leo Sterling stood by the window and watched the city wake up.

Right next to him, on a table by the window, was the ...