PART 13: THE SEATTLE NETWORKS
The private corporate jet owned by Vance Sovereign cut through the stormy skies over the Pacific Northwest at Mach 2.
I sat in the command chair, looking at a wall of high-definition monitors tracking the real-time digital footprint of Seattle.
We had deployed our private constellation of low-orbit reconnaissance satellites, blanket-covering the entire Puget Sound region.
Mark’s burner phone signal had been completely vaporized the moment he hung up, but he had made one critical, arrogant mistake.
He was still using a customized, highly specific biometric encryption algorithm that he had developed during his time at Vanguard.
To a standard FBI or police tracking network, his digital transmission looked like harmless, random white noise on the grid.
But to our proprietary Vance cyber-matrices, that specific frequency stood out like a blazing beacon in a pitch-black night.
“We have a localized match, Dr. Vance,” our lead tech director announced, bringing up a 3D thermal map of the Seattle shipping docks.
“The frequency is leaking from an abandoned, high-security marine warehouse located directly on Pier 54.”
“Our thermal imagery shows heavy activity inside—at least twelve armed tactical operatives guarding the perimeter walls.”
“And we have detected a massive, encrypted server array drawing a tremendous amount of electrical power from the local grid.”
Mark wasn't just hiding inside that marine warehouse; he was actively building a mobile command center to launch his assault.
He was preparing his strike team to breach the mountain sanctuary where Sophie was hidden, using the cover of the incoming storm.
I stood up, pulling a sharp, lightweight tactical vest over my navy-blue designer suit, my eyes burning with purpose.
“Assemble our private security containment unit, Thomas,” I ordered, checking the charge on my secure digital overrides.
“We are not going to wait for him to bring the war to my daughter’s doorstep. We strike Pier 54 within twenty minutes.”
“What about the federal authorities, Dr. Vance?” Thomas asked, his hand hovering over his tactical gear.
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“Inform the FBI task force to set up a five-mile perimeter around the docks, but tell them to stay out of the hot zone.”
“This isn't a standard law enforcement operation anymore; this is the total, absolute eradication of my family's nightmare.”
