The small, one-bedroom apartment in the Marina District was dark, illuminated only by the harsh, flickering light of a bulky CRT monitor.
Leo Maxwell sat at his cramped desk, a cold cup of coffee resting next to his keyboard. The clock on his wall read 1:15 AM.
He had the receiver of his telephone wedged between his ear and his shoulder, typing furiously into a command prompt.
"Sam, I know it's late," Leo said, his voice raspy from exhaustion. "But I need a favor. A massive favor."
"Leo, it’s one in the morning," Sam complained through the static of the line. "I have a network integration review with the Cisco executives tomorrow at eight. What do you want?"
"You still have administrative access to the Pacific Bell trunk lines in the South Bay?" Leo asked.
"I manage the commercial ro
