She taps a key.
The system splits again.
Command authority re-routes.
The cascade timer resets.
A new countdown appears.
0:44:12
Plenty of time.
She turns toward the open rooftop door where two armed guards stand watch.
“Status?”
“Perimeter secure,” one replies.
“No law enforcement activity.”
“Helicopter traffic?”
“Nothing close.”
She nods once.
Good.
Very good.
The laptop screen flashes again.
A second signal appears.
Wren McKay has begun probing the network.
Her intrusion patterns are careful.
Elegant.
The woman smiles slightly.
So Sentinel had been right.
Wren was the only one who might understand the system.
The only one who might see what it had become.
She watches the code moving across the screen.
“Yes,” she murmurs quietly.
“Come find me.”
Her fingers type another command.
Across Los Angeles—
