Page 31 of The Honeymoon Hack
I smiled, pushing aside my mission planning and letting my authentic curiosity shine through. “Sounds great.”
As Claire leaned over to point at something on my screen, I couldn’t help but watch her ID card swinging away from her body. If I were Scarlett, I could have swapped our cards without her noticing.
But if IwereScarlett, I’d also realize that would be a poor choice. Claire would simply go to security, tell them she’d lost her card, and they’d use the embedded GPS tracker to find the card. And find me holding it.
I needed to talk to Will. Compare notes. And make a plan.
Chapter 12
Will
Ronnie walkedlike a man perpetually five minutes behind schedule—intense and clearly not someone who wasted time on small talk with strangers. Not the best company as we headed for the server rooms, but the important part was his lanyard with the white Mnemis logo. Same color as Claire’s and the head of security. And as we’d learned during our safety briefing, it was the highest level of access.
“Pacific Section’s through here,” he said, swiping his ID card before going through another X-ray machine. We were past the guards in record time—no surprise, since the last guards had confiscated everything but my belt. “All server areas are named after oceans. Makes it easier to coordinate when something goes wrong.”
The temperature dropped as we entered. Not uncomfortably cold, but I’d need proper pants and a long-sleeved shirt tomorrow. “How many sections are there?”
“Five main ones.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Pacific, Atlantic, Indian, Arctic, Southern. Each has its own backup generators and cooling systems. Fully independent. If onesection has a critical failure, we can transition server loads to the others.”
“That level of redundancy must require a lot of maintenance.” The engineering was stunning. Each section was effectively a self-contained data center within the larger facility. Every fiber of my being begged to examine the system architecture more closely.
“We practice full section transfers every quarter,” Ronnie continued. “Complete pain in the ass, but necessary. Takes about seventy-two hours to move everything.”
Fascinating. That kind of all-hands-on-deck operation would significantly alter normal security patterns.
“What about—” I started, but stopped as we rounded a corner.
Three technicians stood chatting near a server rack, clearly not working. When they spotted Ronnie, they immediately scattered, muttering hasty greetings. Either they feared or respected him, but either way, he was quickly becoming the ally I needed.
“Maintenance comes first, gossip later,” Ronnie called after them, continuing without slowing.
The hallways formed a labyrinth of climate-controlled corridors, each leading to different server rooms. I mentally traced our path, noting the locations of security cameras, access panels, and emergency exits. The facility was far more complex than I’d understood from Gideon’s briefing. We’d have to find a way to load the Mnemis app onto our phones so we could study the map.
We stopped at a supply alcove, where several maintenance carts were parked. Ronnie grabbed one, placed his toolbox on top, and tapped his ID card to a scanner on the cart’s side. From there, he pushed the cart alongside shelves full of QR-coded bins.
“The cart already has all the tools you’d need. Why lug your own toolbox around?”
He patted the box. “They’re my lucky tools.”
“Fair.” I had tools like that back home—devices I’d modified to perfection over the years that fit my hands perfectly. I understood completely. “What do we need?”
“Cables, fiber splicing kit, memory modules, a couple of replacement fans.” He loaded each item into the cart, running them over the scanner built into the side. “And power modules. Always grab extras.”
Extras? He’d grabbed more than simply extras. He’d loaded the cart with several items we wouldn’t need for cable work. He must have had other plans.
Ronnie pushed it out of the maintenance alcove, and we finally entered the server room proper.
It was more elegant than I’d expected. Gideon had told us they used liquid cooling, but I’d still braced for the deafening roar of fans and the bone-dry, metallic reek of overheated machines. Instead, a soft hum pulsed through the floor, loud enough I’d have to raise my voice, but there’d be no yelling or ear protection required.
Look impressed, Will. This wasn’t in the employee orientation manual.“It’s surprisingly quiet.”
“Liquid cooling,” Ronnie said, speaking louder. “Plus acoustic baffling. You’ll get used to it.”
In place of the industrial cages I was familiar with in other facilities, the racks here were individually enclosed in sleek, ventilated housings. Low-profile polycarbonate casings locked tight around the gear, fronted by transparent panels offering visibility without compromising security. Mounted on each rack door, another scanner provided access rather than a key slot.
Overhead, color-coded cable trays cradled neatly bundled lines—fiber, power, and copper—that ran like organized veins across the ceiling.
Every server in the row emitted a blue glow, except for two of them. Two glowed red.
