CHAPTER 9: THE ULTIMATE CYBER-TRAP
CHAPTER 9: THE ULTIMATE CYBER-TRAP
I reached the central control hub in the kitchen. The backup battery power was failing, the monitors flickering violently.
I slammed my palm onto the primary glass terminal, using my own biometric footprint to trigger the absolute final protocol of the estate: The Quarantine Protocol.
The house didn't just lock down this time. The internal steel blast doors dropped from the ceiling headers, sealing the study, the hallways, and the foyer into isolated, air-tight compartments.
Mark and the two fixers were trapped in the west wing. I was in the east wing, separated by three inches of solid, reinforced steel.
I grabbed the kitchen intercom mic.
“Mark, can you hear me?” I asked, my voice echoing into his steel cage.
Through the monitor, I could see him throwing his body against the blast door, his hands bloody, his face twisted in absolute horror as the chemical fog continued to settle around him.
“Rachel! Let me out! I can’t breathe!” he screamed.
“The files have already been uploaded to Detective Vance’s secure server,” I lied, keeping my tone perfectly deadpan. “The dead-man's switch you built didn't delete the network backup; it forwarded it directly to the federal grand jury. Vanguard Holdings is done. And so are you.”
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The mercenaries dropped their weapons, realizing the game was completely over. They sat against the wall, hands on their heads, waiting for the air to clear.
Mark sank to his knees, his forehead pressed against the cold steel of the door.
