Page 92 of Coldwire
I peer around, searching for extra security functionality. I find nothing. “This doesn’t seem very well protected.”
“Threto splits up its departments with a strange organizational system: Ministry of National Defense is both first floor and sixth.” Nik pulls out a hammer-like tool. “They’re relying on stationed guards and an unhackable lock.”
“How are you hacking an unhackable lock?” I ask.
Nik responds by striking the door with the hammer. All subtlety went out the window the moment he crowbarred the front entrance open, I suppose. The hammer smashes into the smooth metal structure, digging through the wires looped inside the layers, dragging them out in awkward lengths. Whatever that hammer is made of, it’s sure doing the trick, because the hole grows quickly, larger and larger until it’s big enough for Nik to squeeze into the server room.
“Blare, come in with me. Miz, the front.” He pauses a moment, setting the hammer down on the floor and meeting my eyes. “Check the rest of the building for anything impending—alarms, employees. Warn us if anything will interrupt the data retrieval process.”
I nod. “Don’t forget to look for my materials,” I say to Blare. “Run searches on all the Kunlun citizens listed in those two documents from Upsie and retrieve any StrangeLoom credentials you can find.” A data center will be holding plenty of private text exchanges and personal notes. There must be a significant number of credentials floating around.
“You got it, boss,” Blare replies. They dive through the hole in the door before Nik can. Nik pauses, mouthing,Boss?before following.
“Be careful,” I say to Miz.
She tilts her head. I know the warning comes strangely, especially when the break-in itself has proceeded so smoothly, but Miz salutes. She hurries for the front again, off to guard the entrance.
And I proceed forward.
Sound is instantly different when I enter the stairwell. It’s muffled, warped. My nose wrinkles, catching a whiff of something sour. I tug my mask down, trying to figure out what it is that I’m smelling.
I climb up the stairs, making a turn. Second floor. I push through the door to exit the stairwell, and it’s entirely quiet. Slowly I poke my head into the rooms that have been left open, finding nothing noteworthy. At the end of the second floor, I follow an electric humming to a closed door, but it doesn’t budge when I try the handle.
The hairs at the back of my neck prickle when I return to the stairwell, climbing to the third floor. I perform the same inspection—find the same empty workspaces and locked server rooms. There are pictures hanging on the walls: the employees smiling at the cameras. I trail past them, lingering long enough on each to memorize their faces.
I check the fourth floor. The fifth. At this point, I should hope that Nik and Blare are finishing up. I push open the door to the sixth and final floor, meaning to make one cursory scan before calling it a job well done and returning to the group on the ground floor. But the moment I step into the hallway, I freeze.
A night guard did clock in for work. He’s right here.
I rush to his side, kneeling roughly on the carpet threads. There’s warmth still, emanating from his skin when I search for a pulse. It gives me false hope, thinking he’ll only be knocked out. Any moment now, I’ll find the sign.
I find nothing. His head is resting at a terrible angle. He’s dead.
“Shit,” I breathe.
I scan the dark. I almost expect someone to jump out from their hiding place, but the hallway stays quiet. A hum, though, is persistent here. I get up, following the sound. It’s loud, then louder, and in front of it, I turn to find the door entirely melted through, a puddle of something sticky trailing into the carpeting.
I was smelling industrial-strength acid. It’s still dripping along the sides, eating away at the doorframe.
I spin on my heel, breaking into a dead sprint to get back into the stairwell. We didn’t trigger an after-hours alarm because one had alreadysounded and been shut off. Who was here? A different NileCorp team? Medaluo’s internal agents? Another unrelated group?
I waste no time. I don’t take the steps down so much as I fling myself from end to end, using the handrail for momentum. I hurtle back onto the ground floor so suddenly that I almost bowl directly into Blare, who’s struggling with another heavy server box in their arms.
“We have to go,” I announce. “Someone else was just here. Dead guard on the sixth floor. The countdown on security arriving started much earlier than we expected.”
Nik pokes his head out from the server room, his eyes wide. A second passes as he digests my words. Then: “Any estimate?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if silent cars are heading our way right this moment. Guard was still warm.” My attention turns back to Blare, clearly struggling with the box. “Do you need any help with that?”
“Nope!” they insist. “Miz is getting a bag. I’ll fling it over my shoulder.”
“You’ve got the log-ins, too?”
“Multiple.” Blare tilts their head to the side, to their pocket, indicating the log-ins are stored on their device. “We can review everything when we have a moment.”
I nod. Miz hurries over, her expression frazzled and a large burlap sack in her hands.
“There’s a car out front.”
