Chapter 11 - The Biometric Lock
The rusted freighter groaned against the concrete pilings, its industrial lights casting long, distorted shadows across the wet deck. Inside the town car, the silence was absolute save for the rhythmic patter of rain against the roof. Clara looked down at Julian’s extended hand, then at the encrypted flash drive gripped tightly in her bleeding palm.
"How do I know this isn't another trap?" Clara asked, her voice steady despite the adrenaline hammering in her veins. "How do I know uploading this data won't just hand the surveillance grid over to another faction of the same syndicate?"
Julian didn't withdraw his hand. His gaze remained completely steady, unflinching under her scrutiny. "You don't. You only have my word. And the memory of your father, who left instructions in the back of the engine blueprints that only a Vance could decode." He paused, a faint, melancholic smile touching his lips. "He knew someone would come back for it. He just hoped it would be you."
Clara slowly extended her hand, pressing her thumb against the biometric scanner embedded in the casing of the flash drive. A soft, green LED light flickered to life, casting an emerald glow across her face.
“Biometric confirmed,” a synthesized voice chimed softly from the device. “Initiating quantum upload sequence. Estimated time: three minutes.”
Suddenly, the headlights of two unmarked black SUVs cut through the fog at the entrance of the pier, their tires squealing as they blocked the only exit route. Doors slammed open in unison, and half a dozen tactical operatives in heavy body armor poured out, their assault rifles raised, sweeping the area with laser sights.
"We’ve been compromised," the driver yelled, slamming the town car into reverse.
"Don't move," Julian ordered sharply, grabbing Clara by the shoulder to keep her down as a hail of suppressed gunfire peppered the rear windshield, spider-webbing the glass into a thousand milky fragments.
"They’re cutting off our signal!" Clara shouted, watching the upload progress bar freeze at eighty-four percent. "The local jammer is blocking the satellite uplink!"
Julian reached into his glove compartment, pulling out a heavy, modified satellite relay box. He threw open his door, braving the rain and the incoming fire. "Stay in the car and protect the drive!" he yelled over the roar of the wind.
Clara watched in horror as Julian sprinted toward an elevated power junction box on the edge of the pier, bullets kicking up sparks from the concrete inches from his boots. He slammed the relay box onto the terminal, manually overriding the local frequency jammer with a series of frantic keystrokes on his encrypted phone.
The progress bar on Clara’s flash drive suddenly surged: ninety percent... ninety-five percent... ninety-nine percent.
May you like
A sharp crack echoed across the pier. Julian stumbled, his hand flying to his shoulder as a dark crimson stain bloomed rapidly across the white fabric of his dress shirt. He fell to one knee against the concrete, yet his fingers continued punching the final override command into the relay box.
---
