Chapter 32
Sarah's world narrowed to the lines of code cascading down her screen. The server room's arctic temperature made her breath visible, but adrenaline kept her warm.
"That's the dead man's switch," Zara confirmed through comms. "Forty-seven accounts plus ten cleanup authorizations."
"Each one's different," Sarah muttered, studying the patterns. "This first one... Swiss numbered account hiding behind three shell companies. Got it. Account two... Cayman Islands with... wait, that routing is wrong."
"Wrong how?" Finn asked.
"It's deliberately misleading. The real account is..." She traced the digital path. "Singapore. Clever."
Behind her, Griff stood guard at the door, the unconscious guard zip-tied in the corner. Through the door, muffled voices drifted.
"—supposed to check in ten minutes ago—"
"—probably taking a smoke break—"
"—Daniels doesn't smoke—"
Griff pressed his ear to the door. "They're getting suspicious about our friend here."
Sarah mapped three more accounts. "I need more time."
"Understood."
The voices outside grew louder. "Daniels, you there? Come in."
A radio crackled on the unconscious guard's belt. Griff quickly muted it.
"He's not responding. Could be a bathroom run?"
"For fifteen minutes?"
"I'll check the server room."
Footsteps approaching. Griff backed away from the door. "Izzy, we need that distraction. Now."
"I got you." Izzy's voice was casual. "You’re gonna love this."
The footsteps were ten feet away. "Izzy..." Griff's voice carried urgency.
"Patience is a virtue, Ghost."
Five feet.
"IZZY."
The footsteps stopped. "What the—do you smell that?"
"Gas," another voice said. "That's gas."
"Kitchen level. Everyone to kitchen level now. We have a gas leak."
The footsteps pounded away. Through the door, Sarah heard radios crackling, voices shouting about evacuation protocols.
"Gas leak?" Griff asked.
"Mercaptan in the ventilation system," Izzy said cheerfully. "Harmless but smells exactly like a gas leak. They'll spend twenty minutes checking every pipe and valve."
"You're terrifying," Sarah said, still typing. "And amazing. Account twelve... thirteen..."
"I prefer 'resourceful,'" Izzy replied.
Sarah reached account twenty, the patterns becoming clearer. David had a signature. He couldn't help but sign his work. "Account twenty-one... twenty-two..."
"Sarah, we've got a problem," Zara's voice cut through. "The auto-trigger's seventh node is fighting back. It's trying to regenerate the others we disabled."
Sarah glanced at the clock: 5:52 PM. An hour and twenty-three minutes until the auto-trigger.
"Can you hold it?"
"For now. But it's learning our attacks."
Sarah pushed harder, fingers cramping. "Thirty... thirty-one..."
Through the door, new voices. Authoritative. "False alarm on the gas. But Daniels is still missing."
"Check his assigned areas. Start with the server room."
Griff moved away from the door. "We can’t keep them out forever."
"Thirty-eight... thirty-nine..."
Footsteps in the corridor. Multiple sets. Moving systematically, checking each room.
"How many?" Sarah whispered, not looking up from her screen.
"Four, maybe five," Griff replied, ear against the door. "They're being thorough."
"Forty-three... forty-four..."
The footsteps stopped outside their door. The handle turned. Locked from inside.
"Sarah." Griff's voice was steady but urgent. "Whatever happens, keep working."
"I'm almost there. Forty-five... forty-six..."
"Server room's secured. Where's Daniels' keycard?"
"He has it."
"Get the override code."
Sarah's fingers never stopped moving. "Can Finn keep them out?"
"Already am," Finn said through comms. "But not for long. They'll figure out I'm blocking them soon."
Sarah hit account forty-seven. "Primary accounts done. Starting on cleanup accounts. These are buried deeper."
"Good," Griff said, moving to position himself better. "How much longer?"
"Five minutes. Maybe four if I skip the verification checks."
"Skip them."
Someone punched in an override code outside. It failed—Finn had locked them out remotely.
"They're getting frustrated," Griff guessed. "Frustrated people make mistakes."
"Or they call for bigger hammers," Sarah countered, fingers flying. "Second cleanup account... third..."
Another attempt. Another failure.
Footsteps in the corridor again. Multiple sets this time. Moving systematically, checking each room.
Griff held up four fingers, then pointed to the door. Four guards. Sarah nodded, continuing to type in silence.
Sarah hit account forty-seven, then held up one finger. Primary accounts done. She pointed to her screen where text showed: "Starting cleanup accounts."
Someone punched in an override code outside. It failed.
Through her earbud, Finn spoke: "Blocking them, but they'll figure it out soon."
Sarah typed faster, occasionally touching Griff's arm and holding up fingers. Two accounts done. Three. Four.
“No way. Try it again.”
Another attempt. Another failure.
A gruff voice called out. "Something's wrong. Get a supervisor."
Griff's jaw tightened. He typed on his phone, showed her the screen: "Security Chief = bad news."
She whispered back: "How bad?"
"Very."
More footsteps. A new voice, older, more authority. " What's the problem?"
Griff tensed beside her. His hand moved to his weapon.
"Door won't open. Override's not working. And Daniels is missing."
"How long?"
"Twenty-five minutes."
A pause. Then: "Get maintenance. And bring a breach team."
Sarah's hands trembled slightly but kept moving. Seven accounts done. Eight.
Griff typed on his phone again: "90 seconds until breach. Hurry."
Through her earbud, barely audible: "Sarah, the auto-trigger is rebuilding. We're losing."
She couldn't respond without speaking. Nine accounts done. One more.
The footsteps returned. Many of them.
"Maintenance is five minutes out," someone reported. "But I've got the manual override sequence."
"Use it."
Sarah heard the panel being opened. Manual switches being flipped.
Ten. All cleanup accounts mapped.
She turned to Griff, mouthing: "Done."
But through her earbud, Finn's voice was grim: "The auto-trigger is back online. We can't stop it remotely."
“That’s bad, right?” Griff whispered.
“Seriously.” Zara answered over comms as Sarah nodded.
The lock mechanism clicked.
The handle turned.
“I got this,” Griff announced. “Ignore everything. I’ll buy you what time I can.”
Sarah bit down on a scream of protest. Her hopes and wishes meant nothing now.
She turned back to her keyboard, pulling up the auto-trigger system. Seven nodes, all rebuilding themselves despite Finn and Zara's attacks. If she could disrupt them locally, override the regeneration protocol...
"Sarah," Finn's voice urgent in her ear. "The dead man's switch accounts are redirecting successfully. But the auto-trigger—you need to stop it from there. Manual override, server panel Alpha-7."
Her fingers flew across the keys, searching for the right protocol while Griff prepared to hold the line.
The door swung open.