Detective Cal Reyes stared at the laundry page in silence.
The courier had dropped it off anonymously at his precinct inbox, folded into the hem of a towel from a Macadam subsidiary cleaning service.
At first glance, it looked like gibberish.
Then he saw the markings.
*Day 25.*
*Ledger codes.*
*Shell company names buried in shorthand.*
Emerie was alive.
And she was signaling war.
---
**Later that night.**
Reyes stood in a dark parking garage beneath an unmarked surveillance van. A man in black tactical gear handed him a slim headset and a rolling equipment case.
“You're sure the signal can be routed through their maintenance drone network?" Reyes asked.
“Not for long," the tech replied. “Maybe two minutes at a time. Anything more and the system flags intrusion."
“Two minutes
