The interrogation room at FBI headquarters was different from the ones at CPD. Cleaner. Better lighting. But it still had that same oppressive weight that made everyone who sat in it feel guilty.Sarah sat alone, hands uncuffed but an agent posted outside. Not technically under arrest. Not technically free either.She'd been here for thirty minutes. No Ellis. No updates. Just her and the two-way mirror and the knowledge that Marcus was out there alone with six hours until Devereaux's final move.The door opened. Ellis entered carrying two cups of coffee and a tablet. He set one cup in front of Sarah and took the seat across from her."You're lucky I convinced them you're a cooperating witness and not a suspect," he said. "Chicago PD wants you in custody. The US Attorney wants to file charges. And Homeland Security is trying to figure out if this qualifies as domestic terrorism.""Does it?" Sarah wrapped her hands around the cup. "Because using cops as programmable assassins sounds ter

The conference room on the FBI's fourth floor had been converted into a tactical planning center. Whiteboards covered with diagrams. Laptops showing surveillance feeds. Six agents, including Ellis, huddled around a table covered in maps of downtown Chicago.Sarah stood at the center of it all, feeling like prey volunteering for the slaughter."The concept is sound," Ellis was saying, pointing to a red circle on the map. "We put Chen in a visible, controlled location. Somewhere Devereaux would see as an easy target but we can monitor completely.""And we're certain Devereaux will take the bait?" Agent Torres, mid-thirties with sharp eyes, looked skeptical. "He's been careful so far. Why would he risk exposure going after Chen?""Because she's the biggest threat besides Kane," Ellis replied. "She has Foster's documents. She witnessed Moss's activation. If Devereaux is planning a terminal cascade, Chen is absolutely on his target list."Sarah studied the map. The red circle marked Grant

The service entrance on Dearborn was a nondescript metal door wedged between a parking garage and a loading dock. Marcus stood across the street, hidden in shadows, watching for Tommy.His shoulder was on fire. The makeshift bandage had held, but every movement sent fresh waves of pain radiating through his arm.Twenty-eight minutes since the call. Two minutes until Tommy was supposed to arrive.A familiar sedan pulled up to the curb. Tommy's Crown Victoria. He stepped out, looking around nervously before pulling a duffel bag from the back seat.Marcus waited thirty seconds, making sure Tommy wasn't followed, then crossed the street."You're late," Tommy said without looking at him."Had to make sure you weren't tailed.""I'm not an amateur." Tommy handed over the duffel. "Everything you asked for. Fire alarm trigger, smoke grenades, and a security badge. After the first checkpoint, you're on your own."Marcus checked the contents. "Where'd you get a federal badge?""You don't want to

Marcus made it out of the FBI building with two minutes to spare before lockdown. The smoke had cleared, alarms were winding down, and security was beginning systematic sweeps of each floor. He'd slipped out through the chaos, just another figure in the confusion, and emerged onto Dearborn Street breathing hard.Twenty-four minutes until final activation.He pulled out the burner phone and dialed Tommy as he walked, putting distance between himself and the federal building."Tell me you got out," Tommy answered immediately."I'm out. Did you?""Barely. They're questioning everyone who was in the building during the alarm. I gave a statement about responding to the fire threat, but Marcus, they're going to review footage. They're going to see me near the trigger point.""Then you need to disappear. At least until this is over.""I'm already gone. Grabbed my go-bag and hit the road. Heading to my sister's place in Wisconsin." Tommy paused. "Did you get what you needed from Vasquez?""Ma

The moment the Faraday cage powered down, Marcus felt it.A pressure in his skull. Like someone pressing fingertips against the inside of his forehead. Gentle at first. Almost tentative. Then harder. More insistent.‘Protocol standby. Awaiting activation sequence.’The voice wasn't external. It came from somewhere deep in his mind, calm and measured and wrong. Marcus's hands tightened on the jammer's controls, fighting the urge to drop it and simply obey whatever came next."Marcus?" Sarah's voice sounded distant. "Are you okay?"He wasn't. The pressure was building, turning into a low hum that vibrated through his entire nervous system. He could feel his body wanting to respond, muscles preparing to move without his conscious input."The jammer," he managed to say through gritted teeth. "Range dial. All the way right."Sarah was beside him in a second, her hands on the device. She found the dial and twisted it. The LED display shifted from yellow to green."It's at maximum," she said