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“So we give them the drive, they test it, it looks real, they release Marguerite, and then⁠—”

“And then their entire operation goes dark,” Elena finished. “Everything. Bank accounts, contact lists, operational details, communications. All of it copied to us and the DOJ, then permanently destroyed on their end.”

“They’ll know you did it,” Brock said.

“I know.” Elena met his eyes. “That’s why I wasn’t planning on coming back.”

Brock’s mouth tightened in a firm line. “Well, that plan’s changed. We’re all coming back. Together.”

Her phone buzzed on the table. She grabbed it, her heart racing.

Time’s running out, Elena. We’re getting impatient.

She showed Brock the message.

“Let me see your phone,” he said.

Elena handed it over and watched as Brock scrolled through the message history, his expression hardening with each new threat.

“Okay,” he said finally. “We need to respond. But carefully. We need to buy time without making them suspicious.”

“What do I say?”

“Tell them you’re working on it. That the data is too large to transmit remotely. That you’ll need to deliver it in person.”

Elena’s hands shook as she typed: Working on data extraction. Too large to transmit. Will need to deliver personally. Need proof Marguerite is unharmed.

The response came quickly. You’re in no position to make demands.

Elena looked at Brock. He nodded. “Push back a little. They’ll respect strength more than weakness.”

Neither are you. I have what you want. Show me she’s alive and well, or no deal.

They waited. One minute. Two. Five.

Then a video file came through.

Elena’s hand trembled as she opened it. The footage was grainy, black and white, but clear enough. Marguerite sat in a chair, still wearing her habit. Her face was tear streaked but she appeared unharmed. A man’s hand appeared in frame, forcing her to look at the camera.

“Elena,” Marguerite said, her voice shaking. “Please don’t⁠—”

The video cut off.

Elena felt the tears spill over. “She’s alive.”

“And we’re going to keep her that way,” Brock said firmly. He took the phone and started typing a response, but paused. “We need to give ourselves realistic time. We can’t just show up in Mexico. We need to establish cover, do reconnaissance, wait for Atticus to coordinate from Somalia. If we move too fast, they’ll smell a trap.”

“How long?” Elena asked.

“Three days minimum. Maybe four.” He showed her what he was typing: Data extraction will take 24 hours. Flight to Cancun another 12–15 hours with connections. Will need time to establish cover as tourists and transport data securely. Can meet in 72 hours.

“Will they wait that long?” Elena asked nervously.

“They’ll wait,” Brock said. “This data is worth millions to them. They know you can’t just walk into Mexico with a flash drive full of classified intel without raising suspicion. You have to look legitimate. Besides, seventy-two hours gives them time to prepare too. They’ll use it to set up their end.”

He sent the message.

The response took longer this time. Almost ten minutes. Elena paced her apartment, checking her phone every few seconds until it finally showed up.