“Professional convoy.”
Wren zooms the signal again.
“They’re shifting lanes every few miles.”
“Trying to avoid traffic cameras,” Adam says.
“Smart,” Russ mutters.
Boone studies the highway below.
A handful of cars move slowly along the distant road.
Normal traffic.
Normal people.
None of them realizing that somewhere ahead—
A mobile command center is racing toward Los Angeles.
And if it gets there—
Everything changes.
“How close are we to the Golden Team?” Boone asks.
Logan checks the navigation screen.
“They’re staging twenty miles ahead of the convoy.”
Perfect.
Because if this works—
The Architect is about to run straight into a trap.
35
River
The freeway is quiet tonight.
Too quiet.
Cyclone’s truck idles on the shoulder beneath an overpass.
Raven’s vehicle waits a hundred yards ahead.
Gideon monitors the highway cameras from a laptop in the back seat.
The city lights of Los Angeles glow faintly on the southern horizon.
Cyclone checks his watch.
“Convoy should be here soon.”
Lyon nods.
