Chapter 9 - The Final Code
The cistern beneath the lighthouse floor was accessible only by a steep iron ladder. I lowered Julian down first, then helped Emma, whose hands were shaking so badly she could barely hold the rungs.
In the center of the damp, circular room sat a heavy, military-issue waterproof pelican case, secured to the concrete floor with steel cables. Inside the case was a piece of technology that looked like a cross between a satellite receiver and a black box from an aircraft—the Svarog Project module. Its dark casing was covered in Cyrillic letters and US naval property stamps.
I set my laptop down on the case, connecting the module to the secondary port and inserting Julian's salt-crusted flash drive.
"The ONI network is already tracking the signal," I said, watching the terminal lines populate across my screen. "The moment I initiate the sequence, it'll take four minutes for the data packets to upload to the global servers. Once it's out, it can't be deleted. But those four minutes are going to be a shooting gallery."
Above us, a heavy thud echoed through the stone tower. The iron door at the base of the lighthouse was being breached with hydraulic tools. They were directly above our heads.
"Jonah," Julian said, his voice dropping to a calm, steady whisper that sounded exactly like our father's right before a major storm. "Do it. Don't worry about me. My watch is almost over anyway."
"Shut up, Jules," I said, a single tear escaping my eye as I hit the final execution key on the keyboard. UPLOAD INITIALIZED. 240 SECONDS REMAINING.
The iron hatch above us was blown off its hinges with a deafening blast. Dust and concrete fragments rained down into the cistern. A tactical flashlight cut through the smoke, illuminating the ladder.
"Step away from the console, Petty Officer Hart!" a cold, amplified voice shouted down from the hatchway. "The data belongs to the department. You are committing an act of treason."
I raised my weapon, aiming it at the opening, but before I could fire, a flash-bang grenade rolled over the edge of the hatch, falling toward the floor.
Emma didn't hesitate. With a feral cry of pure survival instinct, she grabbed an old canvas tarp from the corner of the cistern and threw her body over the grenade just as it detonated.
The blast was muffled by the heavy cloth and her body, but the concussive force sent her flying backward against the concrete wall. She slumped down, motionless, a thin line of blood trickling from her ear.
"Emma!" I screamed, the world spinning into a vortex of pure, unadulterated rage.
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I stood up, firing my pistol into the hatchway until the magazine was empty, forcing the entry team back into the tower above. I dropped the weapon and fell to my knees beside her, my hands hovering over her pale face, my heart completely breaking into a thousand pieces.
"Emma, please," I begged, pulling her into my lap, my tears falling onto her cold cheek. "Don't leave me. I just got home. I just found you."
