Chapter 16: The Morning Briefing
The sun didn't rise over H City; it merely turned the smog into a dull, bruised purple.
I was still in the chair. My eyes felt like they were full of grit, but the secondary monitor kept me awake. The Ministry's internal dispatch was a torrent of activity. At 6:12 AM, the news caught up to the reality I had engineered.
I turned on the television, keeping the volume at a whisper.
—Breaking News: Director of Public Works, Zhou Min, taken into custody on charges of subversion and high-level embezzlement. A Ministry spokesperson cited a massive digital cache recovered from a private server—
The footage was grainy, taken from a bystander's phone. It showed a man in silk pajamas being shoved into the back of a black SUV. His wife stood in the doorway of their villa, a silhouette of frozen confusion.
I didn't look for the daughter. I didn't want the data to have a face.
A knock sounded at the door. Not the rhythmic tap of a debt collector, but the sharp, heavy strike of someone who owned the floor.
Lu Sheng stood by the door, his handgun already drawn and held against his thigh. He didn't look at me for instructions. He looked at the peephole, waited three seconds, and then stepped back into the shadows of the foyer.
"Open it," he said.
I opened the door.
Director Song walked in, flanked by two assistants carrying briefcases. He looked refreshed, his suit crisp, a sharp contrast to the stale air and blood-scent of the suite. He walked straight to the television, watched Zhou Min being driven away for a moment, and then clicked it off.
"A very productive morning, Miss Lin," Song said. He placed a folder on my desk, right over my keyboard. "The Minister is pleased. The 'Consultant' title is being formalized as we speak."
"I want the feed of the apartment," I said. My voice was dry, cracking at the edges. "You got your gift. Now show me she's safe."
Song smiled, a thin, bureaucratic expression. "Safe is a relative term in a city under a subversion investigation. But she is undisturbed. For now."
He tapped the folder.
"The problem with cutting a thread, Miss Lin, is that the rest of the web starts to shake. Zhou Min's arrest has triggered an automated wipe-protocol in the Qin Group's central hub. They're burning their own servers to keep the purge from reaching the Chairman."
"I can stop the wipe," I said, reaching for the laptop.
"No," Song said, his hand dropping onto my shoulder. His grip wasn't violent, but it was heavy—the weight of the State. "We want the wipe to continue. It creates a vacuum. What we need from you is a bridge. While they are busy deleting their history, we want you to insert a back-door into their recovery mirror."
I looked at Lu Sheng. He was still in the shadows, his eyes fixed on Song's jugular. He wasn't a protector; he was a predator waiting for the order to kill, but he knew as well as I did that Song's death would be the woman's execution.
"If I do that," I said, looking back at Song, "I'll be visible to the Qin Group's counter-ops. They'll know exactly where the bridge is coming from."
"Yes," Song agreed pleasantly. "That is why we've moved an extra tactical unit to the Hyatt. You'll be perfectly safe inside the perimeter. But you have six hours before the Qin Group finishes the purge. I suggest you start building that bridge, Miss Lin. Or the 72-hour window might close early."
Song turned and left without another word.
I looked at the folder. Inside was a list of hardware IDs for the Qin Group's private server farm. The Ministry wasn't just asking for data anymore; they were asking me to sign my name to the attack.
"He's using us as a lightning rod," I said, my fingers finally beginning to tremble.
"Then be the lightning," Lu Sheng said from the shadows. He didn't come closer. He didn't offer comfort. "Start the bridge. I'll handle the perimeter."
I turned back to the screen. The city was waking up to a purge I had started, and the only way out was to go deeper into the fire.