Chapter 8: The Server Room
The interior of the water treatment plant was a cavernous labyrinth of rusted pipes, stagnant concrete pools, and flickering overhead emergency lights that cast long, distorted shadows across the walls. Arthur and Dr. Vance moved with calculated stealth, their footsteps muffled by the damp concrete and the constant, low-frequency drone of industrial servers humming away in the depths of the facility.
The frequency scanner in Vance's coat pocket was now emitting a continuous, high-pitched tone. Vance held it up like a compass, guiding them down a narrow corridor lined with exposed electrical conduits and damp insulation.
At the end of the hall stood a heavy reinforced steel door, its electronic keypad glowing with a faint blue light. Through a small wired-glass window set into the upper half of the door, Arthur could see the rapid blink of server rack indicator lights flashing in unison.
"This is it," Vance whispered, pressing his back against the rough concrete wall beside the frame. "The central data node for the regional sector. Every domestic surveillance feed, every file on your patent, and every remote medical override command originates from inside that room."
Arthur stepped up to the keypad, his eyes narrowing. "Can you bypass it?"
"Give me thirty seconds," Vance replied, pulling a small, modified diagnostic tablet from his bag and connecting a cable directly to the service port beneath the keypad.
As Vance's fingers flew across the screen, the distant sound of a heavy metal door slamming echoed through the facility. Footsteps—firm, measured, and unhurried—began to approach down the main corridor. Someone was walking toward them, and they weren't trying to hide.
Arthur gripped the steel wrench in his right hand, stepping slightly in front of Dr. Vance to shield him from the hallway entrance. His breathing remained slow and controlled, every muscle in his body coiled tightly like a spring.
"Almost... got it," Vance muttered under his breath, the diagnostic tablet flashing green.
With a sharp mechanical click, the heavy reinforced door swung inward, revealing a freezing server room filled with towering rows of black processing units and glowing cooling fans.
"Go!" Vance hissed, shoving Arthur inside just as a figure stepped into the corridor light around the corner.
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It wasn't Henderson. It was Evelyn.
Her grey hair was slightly untidy from the wind outside, and in her right hand, she held a compact service pistol with a silencer already attached. She didn't shout. She didn't hesitate. She simply raised the weapon and fired.
