Chapter 8 - The Digital Ticking Clock
The flashing red and blue lights of the police cruisers faded into the rainy distance.
I rushed back inside the house and followed my father down to the underground security bunker.
His elite team of cybersecurity analysts was already typing frantically on massive glowing monitors.
The lead analyst turned around with a pale face and confirmed that Grant was not lying.
A highly sophisticated, military-grade logic bomb had been successfully deployed inside the primary servers.
The virus was slowly encrypting every single financial record, client database, and routing manifest we possessed.
If the timer reached zero at midnight, billions of dollars in logistics infrastructure would vanish into the digital void.
My father slammed his fist against the metal desk in a rare display of pure frustration.
Grant was far too stupid to code a virus like this himself.
He must have paid a brilliant hacker on the dark web to build the weapon for him.
I realized that we only had three hours to find the creator and obtain the decryption key.
I remembered seeing a strange, encrypted messaging app on Grant's phone when Harris first confiscated it.
I demanded that Harris bring me the decrypted copy of Grant's digital backups.
I scrolled rapidly through the files until I found a hidden chat log discussing a massive cryptocurrency transfer.
The hacker used the alias "Cipher," and the chat history revealed a startling detail.
Cipher was furious with Grant because he had only paid half of the agreed-upon bounty.
I grabbed a secure laptop and initiated a direct chat with the mysterious hacker.
I offered to pay him triple his original fee if he handed over the kill-switch immediately.
Three agonizing minutes passed in complete silence before the screen finally blinked.
Cipher replied that he did not trust digital transfers anymore.
He demanded a physical exchange of bearer bonds at a deserted parking garage in downtown Dallas.
My father warned me that it was incredibly dangerous and likely a fatal trap.
I told my father that it was my marriage that brought this disaster, and I would be the one to fix it.
I packed a brief case with two million dollars in untraceable bearer bonds.
I drove to the dark, concrete parking structure with Harris following silently in the shadows.
I stood under a flickering fluorescent light, clutching the heavy briefcase tightly.
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A sleek black car slowly rolled out from the darkness, stopping just a few feet away from me.
The tinted window rolled down, and Marcus Thorne leaned out with a wicked, victorious smile.
