2025-12-22 00:06:10
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Chapter Seventy-Eight
1:23 PM.Five hours and thirty-seven minutes until Project Blackout activated.Sarah sat in the driver's seat of the stolen sedan, parked in a lot overlooking Lake Michigan. The water stretched endlessly before her, gray and restless under cloudy skies. Waves lapping at the shore. Seagulls circling. Normal afternoon at the lake.But nothing felt normal. Everything felt suspended. Like the world was holding its breath. Waiting for something terrible or something miraculous. Waiting to see which way the scales would tip.Marcus was in the passenger seat, monitoring the jammers remotely. He'd set up a laptop connected to receivers that tracked each jammer's signal. Three green lights on the screen. Three signals broadcasting. Everything functional.For now.Park was in the back seat. Sleeping. Or trying to. She'd been awake for more than thirty hours. Her body had finally given out. Collapsed into exhausted unconsciousness.Sarah envied her. Wished she could sleep. But her mind wouldn't
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Willis Tower loomed overhead.Marcus stood on the corner of Jackson and Wacker, looking up at the black monolith rising into the morning sky. One hundred and ten stories of steel and glass. An icon of Chicago's skyline. A symbol of power and permanence.And somewhere inside or near it, they needed to hide a jammer.The street level was busy already. Early morning foot traffic. People heading to offices. Tourists starting their days. Security guards. Police. Cameras everywhere.Placing the jammer wouldn't be easy. Couldn't just set it on the sidewalk and walk away. It needed to be hidden. Protected. Positioned for optimal coverage while remaining undetected.Marcus scanned the area. Looking for options. For opportunities.There. An alley between Willis Tower and the adjacent building. Service entrance. Loading dock. Dumpsters. Commercial HVAC units on the ground level.The HVAC units were perfect. Large metal boxes. Vented. Accessible. And running constantly, providing power and white
Chapter Seventy-Six
3:42 AM.Sarah's hands were cramping. Her eyes burned. Her back ached from hunching over the folding table for eight straight hours.But the first jammer was nearly complete.She soldered the last connection. A tiny joint connecting the oscillator to the amplifier circuit. The soldering iron hissed. Smoke curled. The solder flowed and solidified.Done.Sarah set down the iron. Stretched her fingers. Looked at what they'd built.It wasn't pretty. Exposed circuits. Wires everywhere. Components held together with electrical tape and determination. It looked like something a high school student would build for a science fair. Crude. Improvised. Barely functional.But it should work. In theory. If they'd done everything right. If the calculations were correct. If luck was on their side.Big ifs. Always big ifs.Marcus was working on the second jammer. His hands steady despite exhaustion. His focus absolute. He'd barely spoken in hours. Just worked. Methodical. Precise. Building something t
Chapter Seventy-Five
Marcus spread the jammer's manual across the folding table.The pages were worn, creased from use, covered in technical diagrams and specifications. Military documentation written for engineers who already understood the principles. Dense. Complex. Unforgiving.He'd built improvised jammers before. In Kandahar. In Helmand Province. Crude devices meant to disrupt IED detonators and enemy communications. Those had been simple. Brute force interference across limited frequencies.This was different. This required precision. Specific frequency targeting. Minimal collateral interference. They couldn't just blast noise across the spectrum and hope it worked."We need components," Marcus said, making a list. "Voltage controlled oscillators. Amplifiers. Antennas. Power supplies. Frequency modulators. Everything has to be calibrated to seventeen point three gigahertz.""Where do we get that?" Sarah asked. "Radio Shack doesn't exactly stock military frequency components.""We don't need militar
Chapter Seventy-Four
The storage unit was exactly what Park had described.Climate controlled. Ten by fifteen feet. Metal door. Concrete floor. A single overhead light that flickered when Sarah turned it on.But it was private. It was secure. It was somewhere they could work without interruption.Park unlocked the door with a key she'd been carrying. Inside was sparse. A few cardboard boxes. A folding table. Two camping chairs. A sleeping bag rolled in the corner."I've been staying here sometimes," Park explained. "When I couldn't risk a motel. When I needed somewhere the programming couldn't find me." She gestured around. "It's not much. But it's off grid. Cash rental. Fake name. Safe as anywhere can be right now."Sarah nodded. Set down her pack. Marcus came in behind her carrying the duffel with the equipment. He set it on the folding table. Unzipped it completely.Inside was exactly what Davis had promised. Military grade signal jammer. Broadband receiver. Cables. Power supply. Manual. Everything the
Chapter Seventy-Three
The south dock was empty.Marcus walked slowly. Eyes scanning everything. The boats. The water. The buildings on either side. Looking for movement. For shapes. For anything that suggested he wasn't alone.Nothing. Just the sound of water lapping against hulls. Seagulls calling overhead. The distant noise of the city behind him.Too quiet. Too empty. Every instinct was screaming danger. Screaming trap. Screaming turn around and leave.But Marcus kept walking. Kept moving forward. Because the alternative was giving up. Was losing their only chance at the equipment. Was accepting failure.Unacceptable.He checked his watch. 12:16 PM. One minute past the deadline. If Davis was here, he should be visible. Should be waiting. Should be making contact.Nothing. No one.Marcus stopped. Middle of the dock. Exposed. Vulnerable. If this was an ambush, now was the moment. Now was when they'd move. When they'd surround him. When they'd take him.He waited. Five seconds. Ten. Twenty.Still nothing.
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