Chapter 16 - The Trojan Horse
The Grand Horizon Hotel was a twenty-story palace of polished marble, crystal chandeliers, and valet parking, situated on the highest bluff overlooking the city skyline.
Dozens of high-end limousines lined the private drive as high society arrived in floor-length gowns and tailored tuxedos. Outside the main entrance, two dozen private security guards patrolled the perimeter with earpieces and concealed holsters.
Two blocks away, inside an unmarked black surveillance van, Agent Morales, Ryan, and I watched the entrance on high-definition monitors.
"Ryan's engineering firm installed the entire smart-building automation and audiovisual grid for that ballroom three years ago," I explained to Morales, spreading the architectural blueprints across the bench. "Thorne's security controls the doors, but they don't control the central control room on the mezzanine."
Ryan tapped the blueprint. "The audiovisual feed for the main stage presentation is linked to a private fiber-optic server in the electrical room behind the kitchen. If I can patch our decrypted drive into that terminal, we can hijack every 4K display in the ballroom simultaneously."
Agent Morales nodded to two of her undercover agents. "We secured catering credentials from the hotel banquet staff. Ryan, you and Sarah go in with the service crew. My tactical strike team will be stationed in the underground parking garage. The moment the feed goes live and Thorne's network is exposed, we breach the ballroom doors and make the arrest in front of four hundred witnesses and the live press."
Twenty minutes later, Ryan and I were dressed in the black shirts and aprons of the hotel's banquet staff. Ryan carried a black canvas tool bag disguised as an espresso repair kit, containing the FBI’s patched transmitter drive.
We walked through the service entrance, showing the counterfeit staff badges Morales had provided. The kitchen was an orchestra of screaming chefs, clattering stainless-steel trays, and steaming industrial ovens.
We slipped past the dishwashing station and moved down the narrow concrete service corridor toward the electrical distribution room.
Ryan pulled a master keycard from his pocket, swiped the sensor, and the heavy metal door clicked open.
Inside, the room was bathed in the blinking blue and green lights of fifty commercial server racks. Ryan immediately knelt before the primary audiovisual distribution console, unscrewed the interface panel, and plugged the FBI transmitter into the main optical trunk line.
"Link established," Ryan whispered, watching the progress bar fill on his handheld screen. "Agent Morales, do you have visual?"
Through our concealed earpieces, Morales's voice crackled: "Signal received. We have complete override authority of the ballroom displays and the audio system. Thorne just took the stage. Get into position."
Ryan packed his tools, grabbed my hand, and squeezed it tightly. "For Lily," he whispered.
May you like
"For Lily," I repeated.
We stepped out of the service corridor and into the darkened perimeter of the grand ballroom just as the master of ceremonies approached the golden podium.
