And pattern recognition was what the Association had always done better than anyone else.
Upstairs, in a room lit only by the pale glow of a single screen, the Director stood. He wasn't in the war room.
That part was over. The board had met, and the plan was already in motion. This was something different.
This was confirmation.
On the screen in front of him, there was no map. No digital latticework of glowing cities. No markers of holy sites or surveillance grids. Just a single line:
All threads are tightened.
He didn't speak. He didn't need to.
He reached forward, pressed a single key, and turned the screen off.
The room dimmed slightly.
The aides standing behind him didn't ask questions. Their presence wasn't for coordination. It was for proximity. For response.
The Director adjusted the edge of his collar, turned on his heel, and left the room.
No words. No calls.
Because this far along, silence was the final permission.
