The Disarming

Jax cursed under his breath, standing up and pressing his comm-link. "Team Alpha, this is Jax. The suspect on the upper mezzanine is down—cyanide pill. We have a potential secondary breach targeting the subterranean mainframe. Secure the elevator shaft and lock down Sub-Level Three immediately."

"Copy that, Jax," a gravelly voice responded through static. "We're moving down the service stairwell now."

Jax didn't wait for confirmation. He turned and sprinted back toward the main stairwell, his mind racing through the logistics of the attack. If the saboteurs had bypassed the physical security of the upper levels using high-end tech, they likely had physical access to the underground cooling shafts as well. But something didn't add up. Why go through the theatrical display of a silver gift box in a brightly lit ballroom if the real objective was a silent data theft in the basement?

It was a distraction. A very expensive, very dangerous diversion designed to pull every available security asset away from the lower levels and concentrate them in the public eye.

He reached the main floor and bypassed the ballroom doors, sprinting down the concrete corridor that led to the subterranean facilities. The air grew noticeably cooler as he descended the steep concrete steps into the bowels of the Grandview complex. The bright luxury of the ballroom was entirely absent here, replaced by harsh fluorescent lighting reflecting off exposed steel pipes and grey cinderblock walls.

As Jax reached the heavy steel reinforced door of Sub-Level Three, he found it ajar.

The heavy locking bolts had been neatly sheared off using a directed thermal lance, leaving glowing orange edges of melted steel that hissed softly in the damp air. Two of his tactical guards lay motionless on the floor just inside the threshold, breathing steadily but unconscious, having clearly been taken down by aerosolized sedatives.

Jax drew his sidearm once more, stepping carefully over the threshold into the cavernous mainframe chamber. Rows of massive server racks hummed with a low, vibrating resonance, their indicator lights flashing in chaotic patterns of green and amber.

In the center of the room, standing before the main terminal console, was a figure in a dark hooded sweatshirt. The figure was typing furiously, lines of green code scrolling at blinding speed across three interconnected monitors.

"Step away from the console," Jax commanded, his voice echoing off the concrete walls.

The figure stopped typing instantly. Slowly, the hooded person turned around. The hood fell back, revealing a young woman with short-cropped blonde hair and a pale, sharp-featured face. She wasn't holding a weapon. Instead, she held a small USB drive in her right hand, her fingers stained with a distinctive blue dye.