The Archivist's terminal was housed in a building that had once been a bank, its neoclassical facade now crumbling, its marble columns streaked with decades of grime. The Prime had chosen it for the same reason they chose everything: it was invisible, unremarkable, buried in the noise of the city. The building squatted at the edge of the financial district, its windows dark, its entrance guarded by two men in plain clothes who looked like they had been carved from the same stone as the columns.
The team observed from a rooftop across the street, their faces lit by the faint glow of the city. The night was warm, the air thick with the smell of exhaust and the distant sound of traffic. Caleb lay prone at the edge, a pair of binoculars pressed to his eyes. Beside him, Veyra was silent, her d
