Then I pulled my burner phone from my jacket pocket.
I dialed Roman.
He answered on the first ring.
“Elena. Are you okay?”
His voice was calm — but alert.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
I lowered my tone and turned slightly, positioning my body so the nearest camera wouldn’t capture my lips clearly.
“But the CCTV here is everywhere. They’ve covered every corridor, balcony, and entry point.”
A pause.
Roman didn’t sound surprised. “Expected. Baranov wouldn’t run blind.”
“Can you hack the feed?”
“Already started scanning from outside. System’s high-end — encrypted servers, layered authentication, encrypted cloud backup. But nothing’s unbreakable.”
“Good.”
I glanced at another camera mounted above the archway.
“Hacking isn’t enough. If he notices footage glitches, he’ll tighten security. We need to replace the units — swap them with ours so we control the live feed.”
There was silence on the other end.
Then a low whistle. “That’s bold. Swapping live units is risky. If the system detects hardware removal or signal disruption, alarms could trigger.”
“Which means we better do it clean — or not at all.” I exhaled slowly. “We don’t have the luxury of hesitation. Get the team ready.”
I ended the call quickly — cutting the line before anyone nearby could overhear the conversation.
Then I straightened and continued down the grand staircase.
I moved through the mansion like a shadow retracing old scars.
I walked slowly through the east wing corridor.
Guest suites lined both sides — doors closed, lights off. No one staying in them.
Each door had electronic locks.
Each door had a small camera above it.
I counted exits. Mapped distances.
Measured response time from hallway to stairwell.
Everything became data.
If someone attacked from the front entrance, security would converge within twenty seconds.
If someone breached from the garden side, backup would arrive from the lower wing in under a minute.
