THE WHISPER OF THE BLUE AND WHITE ATHLETIC SHIRT ECHOES THROUGH THE HOLLOW CANYON OF BETRAYAL

More gunfire erupted from outside, chewing through the exterior siding of the cabin in a deafening volley of lead and splinters. Wood chips and dust filled the air, blinding anyone standing near the windows.

“Get down!” Marcus roared, dragging the Director down by his collar and slamming him onto the floor behind the reinforced server rack.

Claire didn't flinch. While the others scrambled for cover, she stood her ground in front of the terminal, her hand shielding the flash drive protruding from the USB port. The progress bar resumed its agonizingly slow crawl upward: 96% Synchronized.

“Claire, get away from the glass!” Deputy Miller yelled from behind a wooden couch, firing a single return shot through a shattered window toward the treeline.

“Four percent left!” Claire shouted back over the roar of automatic gunfire outside. The glass of the front windows shattered completely as a sustained burst from a submachine gun chewed through the frames.

Marcus popped up, returning fire with his service pistol through the empty window frame, expending his magazine in three rapid shots before ducking back down to reload. “Whoever’s out there isn't local law enforcement, and they aren't standard mercenaries! They’re using suppressors fitted with high-velocity rounds!”

“It’s the cleanup crew,” the Director hissed from the floor, blood dripping from a small cut on his forehead where he’d hit a metal bracket. “They aren't here to save the data. They’re here to sanitize the entire basin.”

Claire watched the screen intently. 98%... 99%...

“Come on, come on,” she muttered under her breath.

100% Synchronized. Transfer Complete.

Without hesitation, Claire grabbed the flash drive, yanked it from the port, and shoved it deep into the pocket of her pants. She drew her own sidearm, spinning around to face the shattered doorway just as a figure in dark tactical gear leaped onto the front porch.

Vance raised his shotgun and fired through the ruined door frame. The deafening blast sent the attacker tumbling backward off the porch into the dirt.

“We have the data!” Claire yelled over the din of gunfire. “We need to move, now! That download just pinged every satellite receiver within a fifty-mile radius. They’re calling in air support!”