Chapter 27
Will
“Don’t take your eye off that panel,” Ronnie instructed, his voice muffled as he faced the back wall of the maintenance access bay. “I need to check the backup power connections without stressing those terminals.”
I stared at the small, black-and-white screen, its tiny bars indicating power loads. As long as the six bars remained roughly even, the section being monitored would remain steady.
Everyone on the tech crew who wasn’t doing high-priority changes had been running hurricane protocols all shift—mostly verifying that already well-maintained systems were still solid. For Ronnie, this was an opportunity to review everything a third or fourth time.
“Didn’t we check these systems yesterday?” I asked as he flipped a few switches. The indicators I was monitoring didn’t budge. I reported, “No change.”
“Hurricane prep’s not just about the hurricane.” Ronnie’s eyes never left his work. “We’re already isolated, so if we need replacement parts we don’t already have onsite, it can take a few days. Add potential damage up top to the landing strip, and those days easily become weeks.”
My gaze drifted over the array of cables snaking through the revealed cavity. A rainbow of color-coded wires, neatly bundled and labeled. Wait a second. These panels served as access points for all essential components—power, cooling, network, and security.
I’d been asking Ronnie a steady stream of questions since our pre-rotation shift on Tuesday. The barrage allowed me to disguise mission-relevant questions among valid new-employee curiosity. “Have you ever had a total power loss?”
Ronnie snorted. “Thirty days of generator capacity, with a week’s worth of emergency backup fuel onsite. Plus backups to the backups. And batteries for critical systems.” He tapped a black junction box inside the panel. “Even the cameras have backup power.”
“Seems like overkill.”
“You are not serious.” Ronnie turned around, pointed at the terminal I’d taken my eyes off of, and retrieved a voltage tester from his toolbox. “Our clients deserve continuous service, no exceptions.”
“I meant the cameras.” I peeked at the bars on the display, then shifted focus to the wiring configuration. “They run on the same circuits as everything else?”
Ronnie gave me a curious look before turning back to the switches, touching probes to various connections. “Separate system. Blue wires. Each row has its own circuit.”
My pulse quickened. I could potentially disable the cameras in a specific row without affecting the entire grid. “What happens if you need to work on any of those circuits?”
Instead of answering immediately, Ronnie leaned back and flipped open a small black box below the panel he had me watching. Inside, a keypad. He punched in a six-digit code, then selected a camera shut-down option from the menu on the small screen, which flashed: “Maintenance mode activated.”
On the second line, a countdown from twenty minutes began.
“Standard procedure when we disrupt any system,” Ronnie said as he returned to the back wall of the maintenance bay. “Can’t have security rushing down here every time we’re upgrading things.”
“That’s convenient,” I said, watching him work. “The system logs it as scheduled maintenance?”
“Exactly. If we need more time, we re-auth before the window expires.” He waved for me to hand over the maintenance manual, which was on top of the cart we were working from. He flipped to a diagram showing all the wires in this panel.
You need to study that diagram, Will.
“Let me check the last connection,” Ronnie said.
The metallic clang of footsteps on the metal floor made me duck my head out of the bay. A small group approached—a tall man with salt-and-pepper hair in a security uniform, a woman with sleek black hair, Scarlett in one of her blonde wigs, and Malcolm.
“Watch the monitor, Will.”
“Sorry.” I glanced at the screen again and reported back, “You’re still good.”
Malcolm followed a half-step behind Scarlett, leather-bound notebook in hand. The original plan hadn’t included him, but he was as protective of Scarlett as Rav was.
Brie’s face popped into my brain. Had they succeeded?
“And here we have part of our hardware maintenance team,” the woman with Scarlett and Malcolm said, gesturing toward us. “What are we working on today, gentlemen?”
Ronnie didn’t take his eyes off the back wall of the maintenance bay, just grunted in acknowledgment.
“Ronnie,” the woman—Pardeep Nasser, according to her badge—said with forced patience, “would you mind acknowledging a potential client? This is Ms. Parker, considering our highest security tier.”
Ronnie sighed audibly, extracting himself from our work but continuing to hold tools in his hands. “Ronnie Webb, systems hardware.” His tone made it clear that the interruption did not impress him.
Pardeep glanced at my ID badge. “And this is Will Stone, one of our newest technicians.”
Scarlett nodded politely to each of us in turn. The fact that her tour was proceeding meant their part had likely succeeded. Otherwise, Scarlett would have manufactured a reason to leave early.
Unless… What if the plan had failed spectacularly, and Scarlett was searching for a new approach?
No. She or Malcolm would have given me some hint if that was true. Wouldn’t they?
“How reliable are your systems during extreme weather?” she asked.
“One hundred percent,” Ronnie said. “We’re designed to withstand a direct Cat 5 hit.”
“More importantly,” the security officer, Derek Moss, the head of security, added, “our security protocols remain uncompromised regardless of external conditions.”
Malcolm made a show of jotting notes in his notebook. He must have been posing as Scarlett’s assistant.
“And what happens to our data in the event of a catastrophe?” Scarlett asked.
“Nothing,” Ronnie said, picking up a crimping tool he didn’t actually need. Telegraphing that we needed to get back to work? “Triple redundant systems, independent cooling backups for each server section. The resort upstairs could blow away, and you’d never know it down here.”
Pardeep’s phone chimed. She glanced at it, her lips tightening. “Excuse me for a moment.”
As she stepped away to take the call, Ronnie muttered something under his breath about tours interrupting real work.
“Your facility is impressive,” Malcolm said, using a British accent that made me chuckle—close, very close, but not quite right. “But Ms. Parker has been considering several options.”
“You won’t find better,” Ronnie said, stepping back into the panel with the crimping tool and voltage meter. “Unless I can’t finish my work.”
“I’ve just received word,” said Pardeep as she returned, her smile forced. “Hurricane Lorenzo has accelerated again, and the resort is initiating evacuation procedures.”
“We need to conclude the tour now.” Moss straightened, gesturing in the direction they’d come from. “I’ll escort you to the entrance. The boat will be waiting for you.”
“But we’ve only seen half the facility,” Scarlett’s tone shifted to indignant. “I’d like to see the support desk before we go.”
“Not possible,” Moss said firmly. “Security protocols require me to seal the outer doors once the resort begins evacuation procedures.”
“I understand.” Scarlett looked genuinely disappointed—or rather, her cover persona did. “Though I expect a more complete tour if I return.”
“Of course,” Moss agreed, already guiding them away. “This way, please.”
Once they’d departed, Ronnie pointed at the monitor again, as a reminder I needed to focus. “Fucking clients. Always want guarantees without understanding the technology.”
I made a noncommittal sound of agreement, still processing what I’d learned. The camera systems had their own power circuits, color-coded blue, with independent junctions for each server row. If Brie could identify the Fenix server location, I could disable the cameras for her.
And given the code Ronnie had shown me, security wouldn’t blink. And if they did question it afterward? The logs would tell them Ronnie was the culprit.