In the heart of London – Surveillance at a glance…

Location: London Bridge, 02:43 GMT
Objective: Intercept a clandestine data exchange between an unidentified courier and a suspected Eidolon asset embedded in the City of London’s infrastructure grid.

The Thames rolled black and silent beneath the bridge, its surface broken only by the occasional ripple of a passing patrol boat. Fog clung to the embankment like a veil, muffling the hum of the city above.

Emma crouched behind a maintenance van parked near the bridge’s underbelly, her earpiece crackling softly.

“Target’s late,” Jake whispered from across the span, hidden in the shadows of a pedestrian alcove. “You think they made us?”

Emma scanned the empty walkway. “No. This feels like a test. Eidolon’s watching how we move.”

She checked her watch. 02:44. The courier was due sixty seconds ago.

Then—movement.

A figure emerged from the mist, walking with deliberate calm. Hooded. Gloved. Carrying a slim briefcase.

Jake’s voice was low. Visual confirmed. That’s our courier.”

Emma moved.

She slipped from cover, blending with the few late-night wanderers still crossing the bridge. Her pace matched the courier’s. Twenty feet. Fifteen. Ten.

Then another figure appeared, leaning against the railing, pretending to smoke—the contact.

Jake’s voice sharpened. “That’s not just a handoff. That’s a dead drop with overwatch.”

Emma adjusted her scarf, signalling Jake.

The courier passed the briefcase to the contact with a subtle nod. No words. No hesitation.

Emma stepped between them.

“Evening,” she said, flashing a fake badge. “Mind opening that case?”

The contact froze.

The courier ran.

Jake was already moving.

He vaulted the railing, sprinting along the lower pedestrian path. “I’ve got the courier!”

Emma drew her weapon. “Drop the case. Now.”

The contact hesitated, then threw the case over the side of the bridge.

Emma dove.

She caught the handle just before it hit the water, slamming into the railing with a grunt. Pain shot through her ribs, but she held on.

Above, the contact vanished into the fog.

Below, Jake tackled the courier near the pier, pinning him against the stone wall.

“Got him,” he panted. “And he’s not just a runner. He’s wired.”

Emma hauled the case back over the railing, heart pounding.

“Then let’s find out what he was carrying.”

Aftermath – 03:17 GMT

Back in the safehouse, Jake cracked open the briefcase. Inside: a biometric drive, still warm.

Emma stared at the screen as it decrypted.

Lines of code. Names. Locations.

And one phrase repeated over and over:

“Larkspur is compromised.”

Emma looked at Jake. “This wasn’t just a handoff. It was a warning.”

Jake nodded grimly. “Then we’re already behind.”