Page 75 of The Honeymoon Hack
“Routine configuration changes. Nothing complicated.”
“Where?”
“Atlantic and Pacific.”
Claire held out her hand. “Assign the tickets to me. I’ll handle the updates.”
No.
Ken’s face fell, exhaustion deepening the lines around his eyes. “Is this about me logging Brie in the other day? I was only showing her the interface, and?—”
“It’s not about that.” Claire’s tone was calm, but as firm as her reprimand on Friday. “I have more access than you do, so I can show her a few more things.”
Ken’s jaw tightened, his lips pressing into a thin line as he nodded. He was clearly pissed about it, but she was our shift lead, so she was the boss. And shedidhave white-level access, versus his yellow level.
“Thanks, Ken. You can get the next one.” She turned her smile on me. “Ready, Brie?”
Goddammit. “Absolutely.”
The corridors leading to the Atlantic section stretched ahead of us, yellow caution displays at regular intervals—the only indication Hurricane Lorenzo was directly overhead now.
I pulled out my phone and opened the Mnemis app. I needed to warn Will that Claire had taken over for Ken.
“What are you doing?” Claire asked.
“Just checking where Will is, in case we run into him.”
“Ronnie has Will working in Atlantic today,” Claire said matter-of-factly. “If we run into them, please remember this is work time, not social time.”
“Of course.” I slipped my phone into my pocket without sending the message.
How did she know Will’s schedule without checking? It wouldn’t have surprised me if she knew what each member of The Bridge staff was doing, but why would she know the technicians’ schedules?
It was like Ken and the others had said in the gaming room: Claire was monitoring everything, watching everyone.
Malcolm’s warning echoed in my brain:Be careful of Claire.
What was she up to?
At the checkpoint, Claire placed her bag on the X-ray scanner’s belt. “Each section has its own security layer,” she said as I followed suit with my phone and watch. “It’s a lot, but there’s a method to it.”
The guards waved us through the metal detector.
I collected my items from the conveyor, trying to look like someone on a routine training exercise rather than someone searching for a way to commit what was essentially corporate espionage. “So we go through the main checkpoint to enter the data center, but the hardware techs have to go through another one every time they switch sections?”
“Will didn’t tell you?” Claire donned her bag and gestured toward the corridor leading into the Atlantic section. “Each checkpoint focuses on different things. The one when you enter Mnemis is for contraband. The one at the data center entrance is for unauthorized electronics—anything that could be used to extract data or compromise systems.”
We passed through another set of reinforced doors, our footsteps echoing in the utilitarian hallway. The walls were lined with conduits and monitoring panels.
“The section checkpoints are more about equipment control,” Claire continued. “Making sure anything moving in or outshouldbe moving. That’s why all the maintenance alcoves and tool racks are inside the security perimeter—techs load up their crash carts with cables and replacement parts without having to go back through screening every time.”
It was practically a fortress. “Do you ever think Tremaine Industries doesn’t trust their employees?”
“Can you blame them? We’re protecting data that could destabilize governments or destroy industries…” She shrugged. “The security has to match the stakes. It’s not personal—it’s just reality.”
We reached the server room entrance, where a mantrap waited—a small chamber with doors on either side. Claire went first, swiping her badge to enter the confined space. The outer door sealed behind her with a soft click, then the inner door opened after a moment’s pause. She stepped through, and I followed the same process, my badge granting access to the chamber. The brief isolation in the mantrap felt oddly ceremonial—as if crossing a threshold into a sacred space. When the inner door finally opened for me, I stepped inside.
Holy shit.
