“Three minutes to the second checkpoint.”
We move like water through the building’s lower levels, sliding past security measures designed to catch cruder intrusions. The basement corridor opens to a service junction where cleaning carts sit abandoned for the night shift. Perfect cover.
The secondary security station appears at the end of the corridor, the reinforced glass booth protected by a card reader and a biometric scanner. A camera rotates overhead, its red light blinking.
“Camera’s on a loop,” I whisper to Rowan, noting the subtle stutter in its rotation pattern. “Five-second delay before it resets.”
Rowan dips his chin toward the scanner. “How long to get through that?”
I extract a small electronic device from my kit. “Fingerprint reader uses outdated capacitive technology. Two minutes, tops.”
Saint positions his men at intervals along the corridor, each facing outward with hands near their weapons. Rowan stands beside me, his bulk blocking the camera’s view as I attach my device to the biometric scanner.
The device hums, cycling through stored fingerprint data until the green light flashes, and the reinforced door clicks open.
Rowan checks his watch. “That was fast.”
Pride floods my chest despite my attempt to remain detached. “Told you it was outdated.”
The hallway beyond leads to a second set of security doors, which require both a keycard and an access code. I crouch before the reader, extracting a thin metal tool and a microfiber cloth from my kit.
“Last swipe was sixteen minutes ago.” I peer at the slight residue on the keypad. “Fingerprints on three, five, eight, and nine.”
Rowan’s warmth radiates into me as he guards my back, his attention shifting from meto the corridor behind us. No micromanagement. No hovering. Just trust in my abilities and vigilance for threats I might miss while focused on the lock.
The code falls into place, and the door clicks open. Beyond it waits the server room, our actual target. Cold air rushes out, carrying the clean scent of electronics and air conditioning fluid.
Server racks stretch toward the ceiling, blinking lights creating a constellation of greens and reds. The hum of cooling fans fills the space with white noise, perfect for masking our movements. This room houses backup data for half the financial district, including the incriminating records we came for.
“Control, status?” Rowan murmurs into his comm.
“Clear for six minutes,” comes the reply. “Guard rotation on schedule.”
I approach the central console, fingers dancing across the keyboard to bypass the login screen. The security system is sophisticated but predictable. Corporate networks always sacrifice certain vulnerabilities for convenience.
“Ready for the final push.” My fingers hover over the keyboard as I turn to Rowan. “Once I’m in, we have ninety seconds before the system auto-alerts security.”
I bypass the login screen and plug into the access control panel mounted beneath the console. Most corporate systems layer convenience over security. Maintenance ports are always the weak link.
A line of text scrolls across the lower corner of the monitor.
Remote access verification pending.
I freeze.
“That new?” Rowan asks.
“Yeah.” I switch from the network interface to the hardware override port. “They’re flagging external panel access.”
The message disappears before I can trace its origin.
I don’t like that.
“Can you work around it?” Rowan asks.
“I don’t need to.” I reroute through the physical control board instead of the cloud interface. “They built the system to trust its own hardware.”
He shifts closer to the door. “Clock’s running.”
