In the heart of London – Surveillance at a glance…

A single message on the screen: WELCOME, AGENTS.
Emma exhaled sharply. “He’s toying with us.”
Jake approached the laptop.
Another line appeared.
YOU’RE GETTING CLOSER.
Emma whispered, “Jake… this is a lure.”
Jake nodded. “And we follow it.”
He typed a single word:
WHERE?
The reply came instantly.
FLOOR 50.
COME ALONE.
Emma scoffed. “Not happening.”
Jake closed the laptop. “He wants us separated. That means we stay together.”
Emma nodded. “Then let’s go.”
They climbed the emergency stairwell — two steps at a time — until they reached Floor 50.
Jake pushed the door open.
This floor was different.
Lights on.
Computers humming.
But empty.
Too empty.
Emma whispered, “Jake… this isn’t an office.”
Jake agreed.
It was a staging ground.
Tables lined with equipment. Hard drives. Portable servers. Signal boosters. Maps of London with red lines drawn across them — the same choke points Tess had identified.
Emma moved to one of the tables. “This is his command centre.”
Jake scanned the room. “He’s been running the entire operation from here.”
Emma pointed at a large monitor on the far wall. “Jake… look.”
A live feed.
Of them.
From the stairwell camera.
Jake’s blood ran cold. “He’s watching us.”
A voice echoed through the room — smooth, calm, amplified through hidden speakers.
“Welcome to the heart of Red Line.”
Emma spun. “Show yourself!”
The Architect chuckled.
“In time. But first… let me show you what you’re too late to stop.”
The monitor changed.
A new map appeared.
Not London.
Europe.
Red lines are spreading across major cities.
Jake whispered, “He’s scaling up.”
Emma’s voice trembled with anger. “This is a global attack.”
The Architect continued:
“London was the test. The world is the target.”
Jake stepped forward. “We shut down your device in Thames House. We’ll shut this down too.”
The Architect replied:
“You misunderstand. There is no device here.”
Emma froze. “Jake…”
Jake’s eyes narrowed. “Then what is this?”
The Architect answered:
“A distraction.”
A soft beep echoed behind them.
Jake and Emma turned.
A small drone hovered in the doorway.
Armed.
Emma shouted, “Jake — down!”
The drone fired.
The drone fired a burst of rounds that shredded the glass partitions behind Jake and Emma. They dove in opposite directions as the machine zipped into the room, its rotors screaming.
Emma rolled behind a steel support column. “Jake — it’s armed with frangible rounds!”
Jake ducked behind a desk. “He’s using anti‑ricochet ammo. He wants us alive.”
Emma fired a controlled burst. The rounds pinged off the drone’s armoured shell.
Jake shouted, “Aim for the rotors!”
Emma adjusted her angle and fired again. One rotor sparked, sputtered — but the drone stabilised and swung toward her.
Jake vaulted over the desk, tackling the drone mid‑air. It buzzed violently, slicing into his jacket as he slammed it against the floor. Emma rushed in, stomping the rotor assembly until it snapped.
The drone went still.
Jake stood, breathing hard. “He’s not trying to kill us.”
Emma nodded. “He’s trying to delay us.”
Jake looked toward the stairwell. “Which means the real threat is above us.”
They moved quickly, weapons raised, ascending the final flights of stairs toward the upper floors. The building creaked around them — ventilation systems shutting down, lights flickering, elevators frozen.
Emma whispered, “He’s isolating the top floors.”
Jake nodded. “He wants a controlled environment.”