Chapter 11 - The Broadcast Protocol
Sitting beneath the damp concrete shadow of the collapsed bridge, Daniel connected the satellite uplink to an encrypted transmitter. Lines of raw forensic data scrolled across the screen: bank routing numbers, shell company registries, and recorded phone conversations linking Marcus Cole directly to systemic extortion and political assassinations.
""This is wired to upload directly to twenty-four international investigative newsrooms and the federal inspector general,"" Daniel explained, his fingers flying across the keys. ""Once the transmission hits seventy percent, it triggers an automated mirror that cannot be scrubbed.""
""How long do we need?"" Rachel asked, watching the loading bar crawl at ten percent.
""Four minutes,"" Daniel replied grimly. ""Four minutes of uninterrupted signal.""
From down the creek, the sound of boots crushing wet shale echoed off the stone canyon walls. Marcus Cole stepped into view through the morning mist, accompanied by four heavily armed mercenaries in tactical gear. Marcus’s face was bleeding from the helicopter crash, but his eyes were burning with psychotic resolve.
""Daniel!"" Marcus shouted, his assault rifle raised. ""Shut it down! Shut it down and we negotiate!""
""Stay with Ethan,"" Daniel told Rachel, pulling his backup pistol from his belt. ""Don't let that bar stop moving.""
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Kane picked up his weapon, racking the slide with an expression of cold finality. ""I've owed this bastard four years of interest,"" Kane muttered.
The two men stepped out from behind the bridge abutment into the open creek bed, guns raised against the approaching squad.
