Chapter 809
We dragged Bennett—whose real name was likely not Bennett, but some mercenary designation—into the garage.
Lucian zip-tied him to a chair. His hand was a mess of blood and broken bone. Alistair sat on a stool, pale but focused.
“Who hired you?” Alistair asked.
“Go to hell,” the mercenary spat.
“We can do this the hard way,” Liam said, stepping forward. “I’ve spent the last month pretending to be a psychopath to get close to Ethan. I found that I’m actually quite good at the interrogation part.” He picked up a heavy wrench, weighing it in his hand.
𝗜𝘯ѕt𝗮ո𝘁 𝘢сces𝘀 𝗈ո 𝗀𝗮𝗅ո𝘰𝗏𝗲𝘭𝗌.co𝘮
“The Architect!” the man screamed immediately, his bravado collapsing. “It was the Architect! He contacted me through the Dark Web. He said Parker Hayes was a loose end. He wanted me to use the Hayes credentials to access the biometric locks and steal the Insight algorithm.”
“Where is the Architect operating from?” Alistair asked.
“I don’t know! He’s a ghost!” the mercenary gasped. “I just send the data to the drop point. Terminal 4!”
“Terminal 4 again,” I said, leaning against the workbench. “Why there?”
“It’s a hardline node,” the mercenary said. “It bypasses the city’s firewall. It’s the only way to upload the algorithm without the NSA flagging it.”
“We need to send a message,” Lucian said. “We can’t just hand him to the police. The Syndicate still has judges on the payroll.”
“We send him back,” I said. “To Terminal 4. To the node where he sent the signal.”
“As a warning?” Liam asked.
“As a delivery,” I said coldly. “We strap a camera to him. We broadcast his confession to the Architect’s private channel.”
We loaded the mercenary into the trunk of a car. Liam drove. I sat shotgun. Alistair insisted on coming, sitting in the back, his rifle resting on his lap despite his injury.
We drove to the Old Port District. It was a grimy, industrial wasteland of shipping containers and rusting cranes. Terminal 4 loomed ahead, a skeletal warehouse that still bore scorch marks from our previous battle.
We dumped him in front of the warehouse doors.
“Tell your boss,” I said to the groaning man, “that the Oracle is coming for him. And I’m bringing the fire.”
We drove off, watching the feed on my tablet.
As we merged onto the highway, the screen flickered.
“Hello, Skye Sterling,” a voice said. It was distorted, digital. The Architect.
“You failed,” I said into the mic.
“Did I?” The voice chuckled. “I didn’t want the mercenary to succeed. I wanted him to deliver you to the Port. To confirm your position.”
“What?”
“Look up,” the voice said.
I looked out the window. Above the warehouse we’d just left, a drone hovered.
“Phase Two isn’t about theft, Skye. It’s about demolition.”
BOOM.
The warehouse behind us erupted. A massive fireball consumed the building, the mercenary, and the node.
The shockwave rocked our car. Liam fought the steering wheel to keep us on the road.
“He sacrificed his own man,” Liam shouted. “Just to destroy the evidence! And to try to take us out!”
“He’s cleaning house,” I realized, watching the flames in the rearview mirror. “He’s burning everything that leads to him.”
“We need to move,” I said. “If he knows we’re here, we’re targets.”
“Where to?” Liam asked.
“The only place he can’t reach,” I said. “We’re going public.”