Page 52 of Rogue Hope
“No, it’s fine. Take it,” Zara countered, moving toward the refrigerator instead.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Finn admitted, his gaze continuing to take in details he’d missed initially—the thickness of the windows that likely contained bulletproof material, the subtle air filtration system built into decorative ceiling features. “The attention to detail is amazing.”
“We should review what we know,” she said, seamlessly transitioning to operational matters. “And determine our next steps.”
Finn nodded, appreciating her focus despite their dire circumstances. “Command center first, then food?”
“I’m starving. I vote we multitask,” she countered, gesturing to the central table that doubled as both dining surface and workspace.
After Zara tossed a meal into the microwave, they settled at opposite ends of the table, the distance between them serving as both physical and emotional buffer.
Zara activated the embedded terminal. The system responded instantly. A crystal-clear display materialized from what had appeared to be an ordinary surface.
“I’ll hack into the Phoenix PD and federal database,” he offered, examining the unfamiliar system before tentatively initiating what he hoped was the correct sequence. “See what they’ve gathered on the bombing. Might give us insight into who planted it and what type of explosive was used.”
She activated a secondary terminal interface with significantly more confidence. “I’ll track Cipher. He’s careful, but even ghosts leave footprints if you know where to look.”
They worked in focused silence, the microwave’s soft chime eventually prompting her to retrieve her meal. Finn continued working, diving through layers of secured police communications and preliminary forensic reports. Despite the unfamiliar system, the familiar rhythm of hacking—identifying vulnerabilities, creating exploits, covering tracks—provided an almost meditative focus that temporarily pushed aside their precarious situation.
After several minutes, Finn glanced up to find her wincing slightly as she flexed her fingers, a brief indication of discomfort before her expression returned to its usual composed state.
“Do you need to get your medication?” he asked carefully.
Her posture stiffened immediately. “I have what I need in my go-bag.”
“Just asking.” He raised his hands in surrender. “No ulterior motive.”
She studied him for a moment longer before returning her attention to her terminal. “What have you found?”
Accepting the subject change, he expanded his display to share his findings. “Preliminary reports suggest the explosive used has an unusual signature. They’re running comparisons against known bomb-makers, but nothing’s matching existing profiles.”
“Cipher would ensure it didn’t,” Zara noted.
“Exactly.” Finn scrolled through additional data. “Witness accounts mention two suspicious individuals entering the building approximately thirty minutes before we arrived—described vaguely as ‘professional-looking male and female, both wearing sunglasses.”
“They were good. We didn’t see any footprints.”
“Vanguard operatives. They’re thugs, but they’re also amazingly thorough. It’s seriously annoying.” He continued scanning the reports. “Federal agencies are already involved, citing potential terrorism connections. They’ve recovered partial fingerprints that don’t match any database.”
“We should also establish alternative communication channels with my team,” Zara added.
Her expression hardened at the reminder of Cipher’s infiltration of her organization, but she quickly refocused. “I’ll implement emergency protocols. Rotating frequencies, code-shifted transmissions, dead-drop digital verification.” She worked a few more minutes, then yawned and closed down her terminal interface. The holographic display retracted seamlessly into the surface, once again making the table appear as ordinary furniture. “We should rest while we can.”
The mention of rest immediately highlighted their accommodation dilemma—one bedroom, limited space, and a complicated history stretching between them like an invisible barrier.
“I’ll take the couch,” he offered immediately. “More comfortable than half the places I’ve slept in the field anyway.”
Zara seemed about to protest before reconsidering. “Fine. We’ll alternate if we’re here multiple nights.”
The concession surprised him—a small acknowledgment of fairness that suggested perhaps the ice between them had thawed slightly.
Not that he’d let her take the couch. Ever.
As Zara retrieved her go-bag from near the entrance, Finn noticed how carefully she handled it—the bag clearly containing essentials beyond standard gear. She disappeared briefly into the bathroom, and Finn deliberately avoided looking when she returned, respecting her privacy regarding medication management she clearly preferred to keep private.
Later, as he stretched out onto the surprisingly comfortable couch, he found himself reflecting on the day’s events and their implications. The bombing had escalated their situation from investigation to survival. Cipher had transitioned from manipulative intelligence operative to active threat. And somehow, improbably, he and Zara had been thrust back into partnership.
And a chance for him to erase at least a little of the damage he’d done.
