"Do not move a muscle, Minister's daughter, or I paint this dashboard with your brains!" the assassin growled, his gloved finger tightening on the heavy trigger.
The words rasped through the dark speaker filter of his composite helmet, sharp and metallic against the roaring backdrop of the blizzard outside. Through the spiderweb of shattered glass spanning the surveillance van's windshield, the wide, black barrel of the large-caliber pistol remained locked onto the center of Meira's forehead. Rain and melted snow poured through the jagged opening in the glass, dripping onto her soot-stained forehead and mixing with the cold line of blood running down her temple.
Meira did not move. Trapped against the base of her fried server array, her own compact sidearm sat uselessly in her lap, em
