The morning after the extraction, Adrian woke to find Martinez already at work, her laptop surrounded by printouts and handwritten notes that covered most of the safe house's dining table. She'd been up all night, he realized, tracking the financial threads Sokolov had provided."Coffee's fresh," she said without looking up from her screen. "There's bread and cheese in the kitchen if you're hungry."Adrian poured himself a cup, noting the slight tremor in Martinez's hands that suggested too much caffeine and not enough sleep. "You should rest. We can't afford to have you collapse from exhaustion.""I'll rest when we have something concrete. Right now, I'm chasing patterns that keep disappearing the moment I think I've found them."He moved to look over her shoulder, seeing spreadsheets filled with account numbers, dates, and transaction amounts. "What are you finding?""Ghosts. That's the only way to describe it. Viktor's information is accurate—the account numbers exist, the transact

Brussels revealed itself slowly through the train windows as they approached the city—first the industrial outskirts with their warehouses and cargo facilities, then the gradual transition into residential neighborhoods with their distinctive European architecture. Adrian watched the landscape pass, his mind already mapping potential safe locations, escape routes, contingency plans.They'd taken the overnight train from Prague, settling into separate compartments to avoid drawing attention. Coleman had arranged everything through his network of contacts—false tickets purchased with cash, a hotel reservation under assumed names, transportation waiting for them at the station. It was the kind of operational security that came from years of working outside official authority.The Brussels train station was crowded with early morning commuters, providing excellent cover for three people trying to move through the city undetected. Adrian kept Mara close, maintaining awareness of Coleman's

Berlin revealed itself gradually as their train descended from the northern outskirts—first the industrial zones and residential sprawl, then the distinctive architecture that marked the city's turbulent history. Adrian watched the landscape pass, thinking about how many empires had tried to control this city, how many had failed. He wondered if Dominic Kessler understood the symbolism of choosing Berlin as his headquarters.They'd booked separate hotel rooms across three different districts, maintaining operational security while staying close enough to coordinate movements. The plan was simple in concept but terrifyingly complex in execution: locate Kessler's headquarters, establish surveillance, identify weaknesses in his security protocols, and somehow find a way to stop Phase Three from activating in less than three weeks."It's impossible," Coleman said bluntly as they gathered in the safe house they'd established in Kreuzberg. "Kessler has had years to build security infrastruc

The operations began at 0300 hours Brussels time, coordinated across six European cities through secure communication channels that Adrian prayed wouldn't be intercepted. Each team had spent weeks studying their target, planning approach vectors, identifying security vulnerabilities. Now came the moment where theory met reality, where planning encountered the chaos of actual operations.Adrian was leading the Berlin team himself, along with Coleman and two former German special forces operators they'd recruited through contacts in the private military community. They were positioned outside the control node facility—a nondescript industrial building in the Reinickendorf district that revealed nothing of its true purpose from the outside."Teams in position," Martinez's voice came through the secure channel from the Brussels command center. "Paris is ready. Amsterdam standing by. Copenhagen waiting for go signal. Frankfurt prepared. Berlin, what's your status?""Berlin ready," Adrian c

The German Federal Intelligence headquarters occupied a nondescript building in Berlin's Lichterfelde district, protected by multiple layers of security and surveillance. Adrian approached it with forged credentials that Martinez had hastily prepared—documents identifying him as a European Union investigator with authorization to interview intelligence officials regarding Phase Three.It was audacious and probably wouldn't survive serious scrutiny, but Adrian was counting on the chaos of Berlin's infrastructure collapse to create enough confusion that security protocols wouldn't be followed with absolute precision.He was wrong about the precision but right about the chaos.The security checkpoint almost turned him away, but the supervisor—a woman named Hoffmann who was clearly exhausted from three days of emergency crisis management—decided that verifying Adrian's credentials through official channels would require time she didn't have. She waved him through with barely a glance at h