"Meira intercepts an incoming encrypted military broadcast from an international mercenary fleet entering Swiss borders."
"Listen to this frequency," Meira said, her voice dropping to a tense whisper as she turned her laptop screen toward Bisma across the heavy metal command table.
The sprawling space of the abandoned warehouse overlooking the dark, freezing waters of the Zurich docks was quiet except for the hum of the auxiliary power generators.
Bisma stepped closer, leaning over the workbench to inspect the looping audio waveform and the scrolling telemetry data displayed on the portable terminal.
"What are we looking at?" Viktor asked, stepping out of the shadows with a heavy tactical submachine gun resting securely against his shoulder strap.
"Military transport transponder
