Page 28 of Rogue Hope
“1741 hours. Sixteen minutes to deadline.”
Zara began the intricate process of approaching Sentinel Network’s outer defenses. Her technique was flawless, movements efficient, anticipating security measures before they appeared.
“Credentials activating,” she narrated quietly. “Firewalls navigated. System recognizing credentials. Temporary access granted.”
“Bingo,” he whispered, not daring to look away.
“Accessing encryption seed now,” she continued. “Capturing key structure. Complete.”
“Time check?” she asked.
“1828. Nine minutes under deadline.”
Zara transferred the encryption seed to the secure channel Finn had prepared. With one keystroke, she sent the data package to Cipher.
The response came almost immediately.
Compliance confirmed. Further instructions will be forthcoming.
Zara announced the feat over comms. Her teammates filed back in, every one of them now in full gear.
“We’ve found three devices so far,” Deke reported. “One visual, two audio. All tied to recent equipment.”
“Complete sweep of all facilities,” Ronan ordered. “Everything that doesn’t belong.”
“Won’t matter,” Finn said. “They wanted us to discover this level of surveillance.”
“Psychological pressure,” he explained to questioning looks. “And it distracts from whatever they’re actually using.”
“The Trojan Horse idea is still viable,” Zara said suddenly. “They think they’ve rendered it useless, but that’s exactly why we should proceed.”
“Double bluff,” Axel nodded appreciatively.
“It’s risky,” Finn cautioned.
“Risk is unavoidable now,” Zara countered. “But we have one advantage—they think they know exactly how I operate. Seven years ago, they would have been right.”
The implication was clear. Zara was no longer the operative Cipher had calculated for, no longer the person Finn had known in Paris.
“We’ve bought ourselves a little time,” Ronan summarized. “Let’s use it wisely.”
As the team dispersed, Finn found himself alone with Zara. The silence felt different now—less antagonistic. Or so he imagined.
“Your contact came through,” she acknowledged reluctantly. “The credentials worked perfectly.”
“She usually delivers.”
One eyebrow rose slightly.
“Work contact,” he clarified. “Nothing more.”
“None of my business either way.” Zara rose from her chair and headed for the door.
“Hey,” he said quietly.
She paused but didn’t turn. “What?”
The words that nearly formed—apologies, explanations—died unsaid. This wasn’t the time. Might never be.
