You ask your compatriots whether they are worried about being spotted by Vanderpoole’s army of security drones.

—HOLOCAT: “Give me 15 minutes, and I’ll take care of them. They’re birds, and I’m a cat. They don’t stand a chance.”

Holocat extends his claws and deals with Vanderpoole’s drone army. Mike Ramen hands you a black turtleneck sweater, gloves, and a pair of night vision goggles.

—MIKE RAMEN: “You can’t do espionage in a Hawaiian shirt. What were you thinking? This isn’t another abandoned warehouse; this is a fortress. Here, I almost forgot. Take this grappling hook.”

You and Mike Ramen scale the castle walls of Vanderpoole’s primary residence. To your surprise, his home overflows with pro-bitcoin art, books, and paper magazines. He is or rather was, a true bitcoiner. A collection of miners dating back 125 years sit anointed in display cases. That’s when you see it: Vanderpoole’s workshop.