In the heart of London – Surveillance at a glance…

Emma’s breath caught. “No… that can’t be right.”
Jake stared at the screen, disbelief turning to dread.
The primary device wasn’t at a stadium.
Or a station.
Or a landmark.
It was inside Thames House.
MI5 headquarters.
Jake whispered, “He’s going to blow up the entire agency.”
Tess shook her head. “Not just that. Look at the signal strength. That device is massive. If it goes off, it’ll take out half of Westminster.”
Emma’s voice was barely audible. “We have forty‑seven minutes.”
Jake straightened. “Then we move.”
Tess grabbed his arm. “Jake — one more thing.”
He turned.
Tess pointed at the signal trace. “The Architect isn’t just inside MI5.”
She zoomed in.
A second signal.
A piggyback.
A shadow.
“He’s working with someone else,” Tess said. “Someone who has full access to MI5’s internal systems.”
Emma’s face hardened. “The mole.”
Tess nodded. “And they’re not hiding anymore.”
Jake and Emma raced toward Thames House in an unmarked car, sirens off, adrenaline high. The city was waking up — unaware that its intelligence headquarters was sitting on a live bomb.
Emma checked her watch. “Forty‑one minutes.”
Jake accelerated. “We need to get inside without triggering a lockdown.”
Emma looked at him. “Jake… if the mole is inside, they’ll know we’re coming.”
Jake didn’t slow. “Then we don’t give them time to react.”
As they approached the building, Jake’s phone buzzed.
A message.
No number.
Just a single line:
“Welcome home, Agent Mercer.”

Emma saw it. “He’s watching us.”
Jake pocketed the phone. “Let him.”
They pulled up to the side entrance. Jake flashed his credentials. The guard scanned them — paused — frowned.
Emma tensed. “Problem?”
The guard looked up. “Your access has been revoked.”
Jake’s blood ran cold.
Emma whispered, “Jake… the mole just locked us out.”
Jake stepped forward. “Listen to me. There is a bomb inside this building. You need to—”
A gun cocked behind them.
Jake and Emma turned slowly.
Two MI5 tactical officers stood with weapons raised.
“Agents Mercer and Walsh,” one said. “You’re under arrest for unauthorised interference with an active operation.”
Emma’s eyes widened. “They think we’re the moles.”
Jake raised his hands slowly. “We don’t have time for this.”
The officer stepped forward with cuffs.
Then — a deafening explosion rocked the street.
Not the bomb.
A diversion.
Smoke billowed from the opposite side of the building.
The officers turned instinctively.
Jake grabbed Emma’s hand.
“Run.”
They sprinted toward the smoke, disappearing into the chaos.
Behind them, the Architect’s voice echoed from Jake’s phone:
“Tick‑tock, Agents. The endgame begins.”
Smoke still curled along the side of Thames House as Jake and Emma slipped through the shattered emergency door. The explosion outside had triggered a partial evacuation — alarms blared, lights flickered, and the building’s normally rigid order had dissolved into chaos.
Perfect cover for a mole.
Perfect cover for a bomb.
Emma pulled her scarf over her mouth. “The Architect planned this. The diversion, the lockdown, the revoked access — he wanted us inside, but blind.”
Jake scanned the corridor. “Then we use that against him. He thinks we’re cornered.”
Emma gave a tight smile. “He’s not wrong.”
They moved deeper into the building, passing overturned chairs, abandoned files, and the distant echo of panicked footsteps. Thames House felt wrong — hollow, violated. The air carried the metallic tang of fear.
Jake checked the timer on the bomb they’d brought with them.