Chapter 9 - The Attic Server
The attic of the Duca mansion was a vast, cathedral-like expanse of exposed wooden beams, cobwebs, and humming rows of industrial server racks glowing with blinking green and amber lights. The air was dry and smelled of hot ozone and dust.
I set Emma down behind a thick titanium server rack, pulling a heavy canvas tarp over her to keep her hidden.
"Stay right here, sweetheart," I whispered, kissing her forehead. "Mommy has to fix the computer. I'll be right back."
"Be careful, Mama," she whispered back, her small fingers clutching her one-eyed rabbit so hard her knuckles were white.
I turned away and crept toward the center of the server farm, where the master terminal sat beneath a skylight framing the pale, grey light of early dawn.
Below, through the floor grates, I could hear muffled voices rising from the third-floor office.
"Where is he?" Elena Duca’s voice hissed, cold and furious. "The office is empty! Where did he go?"
"He didn't go far, Mother," a new, urbane voice answered—smooth, calm, and unmistakably arrogant. Julian Vance had arrived. "He’s bleeding out like an animal. Search the stairwells. And check the master server uplink—if he hasn't wiped the local registry, we still need to execute the transfer before the board convenes at ten."
I didn't have time to hesitate.
I slid the silver flash drive into the master server port.
A red diagnostic warning immediately flashed across the screen:
WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED USER. INITIATING FORMAT PROTOCOL IN 60 SECONDS.
"No, no, no," I muttered, my fingers flying across the mechanical keyboard as I punched in every override command Lorenzo had taught me during our frantic escape through the tunnels.
59 seconds... 58 seconds...
On the screen, a progress bar appeared: UPLOADING FEDERAL COMPLIANCE DOSSIER.
30 seconds... 29 seconds...
Footsteps echoed on the wooden attic stairs behind me.
Creak... creak... creak.
Heavy, deliberate footsteps climbing toward the darkness of the rafters.
"I know you're up here, whoever you are," a man's voice called out—not Julian, but one of his senior enforcers, heavy boots crunching against the dusty floorboards just ten feet away.
15 seconds... 14 seconds...
The flashlight beam cut through the dust motes, sweeping across the metal server racks dangerously close to where Emma was hidden beneath the tarp.
My heart stopped.
If the enforcer took two more steps to the left, he would see her.
Without thinking, I grabbed a heavy iron wrench from a maintenance kit beside the terminal and hurled it across the room into a stack of empty cardboard boxes.
CRASH.
The enforcer’s flashlight whipped around instantly toward the noise. "Over there!" he shouted, raising his pistol and rushing toward the far corner of the attic.
I slammed my hand down on the enter key.
5 seconds... 4 seconds... 3 seconds... 2 seconds... 1 second...
UPLOAD COMPLETE. FILES SECURED TO FEDERAL SEC DATABASE. ALL LOCAL PROXIES FROZEN.
A triumphant green checkmark filled the screen just as a heavy hand grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around.
It wasn't the enforcer.
May you like
It was Julian Vance himself, his tailored suit immaculate, a cold, predatory smile playing across his lips as he pressed the cold barrel of a silencer directly against my forehead.
"End of the line, maid," Julian whispered softly.
