The heat inside the garage was thick, clinging to the air like a heavy blanket.

Marcus pressed the stethoscope against the cold steel of the vault. He closed his eyes, his rough, blistered fingers gently turning the massive dial.

He didn't rely on sight. He relied on the subtle vibrations of the metal, the microscopic clicks of the pins dropping into place. This was his true art form. The garage in Nevada was just a distraction.

Click. Click. Clack.

"Twenty seconds," Elena warned in his ear.

Sweat beaded on Marcus's temple, just like it had in the garage. He ignored it.

Click. Clack.

"Ten seconds, Marcus. Patrols are moving!"

With one final, violent twist, the primary locking bolt snapped back. Marcus grabbed the heavy wheel and wrenched it open. He slipped inside the server room just as the emergency lights flared back to life.

He moved to the central terminal, plugging in the titanium drive. "I'm in. Initiating the decryption and broadcast sequence."

A progress bar appeared on the screen. 10%... 30%...

Suddenly, the heavy vault door swung open completely.

Standing in the doorway was Silas Vance, flanked by four heavily armed mercenaries. Vance held a pistol, aimed directly at the back of Marcus’s head.

"You always were the best safe-cracker I ever employed, Marcus," Vance said smoothly, stepping into the room. "But you were always too predictable. Did you really think I wouldn't have a silent alarm tied to the analog tumblers?"

Marcus slowly turned around, raising his hands, positioning his body to block Vance's view of the uploading screen.

"It's over, Vance," Marcus said.

"Oh, I agree," Vance smiled. He snapped his fingers. Two more mercenaries dragged a battered, bleeding Elena into the room.