Rain smeared the world into a grey watercolor, perfect for ghosts. Xavier sat in the driver’s seat of the unmarked van, parked in a loading zone two blocks from the Aethelred building. The engine was off. The only sound was the rhythmic thump of the wipers and the frantic drum of his heart against his ribs. The van, procured by David through a shell rental, smelled of stale coffee and damp carpet. It was a tomb on wheels.In his lap, the grey metal box was a lead weight. In his ear, a nearly invisible comms unit hissed with empty static. Isabella’s frequency was silent. She was inside.Such behavior is madness. This is how you lose everything.The plan was a house of cards in this downpour. A false alarm during a scheduled drill. A thirty-second window of chaos. A biometric scan buried in the
