Doctors gave my six-year-old twins ten days to live, and for the first time, every dollar, weapon, and ounce of power attached to my name meant absolutely nothing. / Chapter 8 / 10

Chapter 8 - The Ultimate DecryptionForty-five minutes later, the armored convoy breached the gates of the Chicago estate once more, sealing the heavy exterior doors behind us.

Down in the subterranean armory, Dr. Yates was already set up in the medical bay, frantically hooking Jonah and Blythe back up to the estate’s advanced life-support systems. Their vital signs were dangerously weak, their skin ice-cold to the touch, but they were still breathing.

"They're hanging on by a thread, Lawson," Yates said, his face pale as he bandaged his shoulder wound. "If we don't input that override code within the hour, their organs will begin shutting down permanently."

I turned away from the medical bay and walked over to the master terminal where Elena was anxiously pacing back and forth.

"Did you get the server running?" I asked, pulling the micro-SD card from my tactical vest.

"Yes," Elena nodded rapidly. "I managed to isolate the genetic decryption interface. But like I said earlier—it requires a direct biological match from Genevieve to bypass the final firewall. Without her, the system will lock us out permanently."

I stared at the blinking cursor on the screen. Genevieve was dead. The Directorate had made sure of that.

Or had they?

A sudden, chilling thought struck me. I looked down at the twin cots where Jonah and Blythe lay unconscious.

"They carry her blood," I said slowly.

Elena stopped pacing, her eyes widening in realization. "The twins... their genetic makeup is a fifty-percent match to Genevieve’s modified retroviral code. But they're unconscious, Lawson. Their cellular activity is too depressed to complete an active biometric handshake."

"Then we use an intermediate proxy," I said, my voice dropping into a cold, unbreakable resolve. "My blood combined with a bone marrow sample from one of the twins. It should bridge the genetic gap long enough to trick the firewall."

Yates rushed over, shaking his head furiously. "Lawson, are you out of your mind? You're talking about a DIY gene-splicing handshake in an unsterile basement server room! It could trigger a systemic immune reaction and kill you in seconds!"

"Do it, Yates," I commanded, pulling off my tactical vest and rolling up my sleeve. "Or my children die in ten minutes anyway. Pick up the scalpel."

Five minutes later, a vial of my blood mixed with a microscopic cellular sample drawn from Blythe’s arm was loaded into the terminal’s bio-optic scanner.

I placed my palm flat against the glass plate.

Scanning genetic matrix...Matching maternal lineage markers...Accessing Zurich mainframes...

The triple monitors flickered from red to brilliant, soothing green.

ACCESS GRANTED. WELCOME, DR. MERCER.