Page 36 of Rogue Hope
“Multiple marker types,” Finn added, stepping closer to the workstation. “Physical tracers in the paper and ink for the original document, digital watermarks for the electronic copy.”
Ronan nodded approvingly. “If Cipher accesses either version, we’ll know.”
The team dispersed to their respective tasks. Finn found himself working alongside Zara at the primary scanning station, their movements carefully choreographed to avoid accidental contact. She appeared physically stronger after what he suspected had been medications administered by Kenji, but emotionally she remained distant, wrapped in cool professionalism.
While she calibrated the high-resolution scanner, he took advantage of a secondary terminal, fingers moving swiftly over the keyboard. He kept his searches discreet, eyes frequently checking to ensure his privacy: “lupus symptoms,” “lupus treatments,” “chronic autoimmune disease management.”
The details matched his observations—systemic inflammation, joint pain, fatigue, potential organ involvement, flares triggered by stress or overexertion.
“Ready for the first scan,” Zara announced.
He closed the browser windows, refocusing on the classified document positioned beneath the scanner’s optics. “Initiating capture sequence.”
As the digital copy formed on the main screen, Finn studied the contents with growing interest.
“This is more significant than I expected,” he murmured, analyzing the detailed schematics displayed. “Quantum encryption for the next-generation of Sentinel. This would give Cipher access to every level of the network.”
Zara nodded grimly.
He tapped a finger to his lips. “We’re running out of chances to find this guy. We need the trace to work this time. I don’t think standard watermarking’s going to cut it.”
She sighed tiredly. “I’ve been worrying about that. You’re not wrong.”
He considered the problem, mentally reviewing available technologies before an unorthodox solution formed. “What if we embed the tracers in the encryption algorithm itself?”
Zara looked up sharply. “That would require rewriting ridiculous amounts of code without changing the output values.”
“Difficult but not impossible. The markers become part of the mathematical structure itself—invisible unless you know exactly what pattern to look for.”
She studied him with reluctant respect. “That’s actually brilliant.”
The acknowledgment, however grudging, warmed something in his chest. “I have occasional moments of competence,” he replied lightly.
“More than occasional,” she admitted quietly.
He turned, not wanting to reveal how much her compliment meant. He tapped his temple. “Easy when you’ve got The Vault.”
“How quickly can you implement it?” she asked.
“Two hours, maybe three.”
She nodded once and moved away to brief Ronan, leaving him to it. As he immersed himself in the intricate mathematical structures, he remained peripherally aware of the team’s movements around him—their easy interactions, casual touches, shared jokes.
Across the room, Axel said something that made Zara laugh, a genuine sound quickly stifled but unmistakable. When was the last time he’d heard that sound? When was the last time he’d caused it?
The questions led to uncomfortable introspection. His life since Paris had been deliberately solitary—temporary partnerships, brief collaborations, but no lasting connections. He’d told himself it was necessary for operational security, for the single-minded pursuit of Cipher. But watching Zara with her team, he recognized the self-deception in that reasoning.
His isolation hadn’t been strategic.
It had been penance.
A little under three hours later, the modified algorithm was complete, tracers embedded so subtly that even the most sophisticated analysis would perceive them as natural variations in the code structure. Finn stretched, easing the tension from his shoulders while Zara ran the final verification program.
“Clean output,” she confirmed, clearly impressed. “Functionally identical to the original but carrying our signature markers. No detectable anomalies.”
“Good work,” Ronan acknowledged before turning to address the team. “We’ll transmit to Cipher at 0800 tomorrow. That gives us twelve hours to prepare for potential countermoves.”
As the team dispersed for a brief meal break, Zara leaned against her workstation, eyes closed momentarily, one hand pressed discreetly against her lower back.
