The Arizona desert was a vast, silent sentinel, its silence broken only by the abrasive whisper of the wind and the distant cry of a nocturnal predator. It was the antithesis of the crowded, frantic city life Evelyn was used to. Here, the threat was primal and patient.
Evelyn and Liam were several hours into their approach, moving through the rocky terrain under the cloak of a moonless night. They wore dark, tactical clothing, and carried only essential gear. Liam moved with the unnerving grace of someone perfectly adapted to the environment, his footsteps barely disturbing the loose gravel. Evelyn, despite her best efforts, felt clumsy and loud.
"Stay close to the shadow line," Liam instructed, his voice a barely audible hiss into the secure comms piece they wore. "Their thermal sensors have blind spots near the rock formations. Move low, and keep your breathing steady."
The compound came into view—a series of low, modern structures built directly into the red stone, blending seamlessly with the landscape. It was illuminated by subtle, downward-facing lights that cast long, deceptive shadows. The perimeter fence, a high mesh barrier topped with razor wire, pulsed faintly with electricity.
"It's not just a home, Evelyn. It's a specialized containment unit," Liam whispered, setting up a pair of military-grade binoculars. "See the patrolling vehicles? They circle every twenty minutes on the perimeter road. We have a three-minute window between patrols to cross the inner zone."
Evelyn took the binoculars, focusing on the main structure. She spotted Dr. Elias Vance immediately. He was sitting alone on a large, illuminated terrace, staring out at the desert. He didn't look peaceful; he looked marooned.
"He's alone," Evelyn observed. "He's not socializing. That confirms what Aris said—he's unhappy."
"Unhappy, or performing for the cameras," Liam corrected, scanning the rooftop. "They will have dozens of cameras and microphones focused on his private area. He's rich enough to be alone, but never alone enough to talk."
They found a concealed observation post behind a ridge of rock. Liam pulled out a sophisticated sensor that began quietly reading the electronic signals coming from the compound.
"They have a dedicated secure network—likely a closed loop, impossible to penetrate remotely," Liam analyzed. "But they are using a standard power grid. And every system has a vulnerability."
He pointed to a junction box mounted discreetly on a rock face about fifty yards from the perimeter. "That's a transfer point for the main fiber line and the power feed. If we can get to that, we can create a temporary blind spot—a localized EMP burst that takes out the non-essential surveillance for thirty seconds."
"Thirty seconds isn't enough to get to him," Evelyn worried.
"No. But it's enough to send a signal."
Liam then opened a small, padded compartment in his backpack and pulled out a specialized penlight and a thin, metallic card. "This is how we're going to communicate. It's a military-grade laser pointer with an encrypted frequency filter. It's invisible to the naked eye and won't trigger the compound's optical sensors."
"We're going to laser-tag him?" Evelyn asked, trying to keep the disbelief out of her voice.
"We are going to send him a coded message using a focused flash sequence," Liam confirmed. "He's a brilliant scientist. He understands codes. We're going to use the thirty-second blackout to send him three words. If he recognizes the code, he'll know we're here and that we're a legitimate source of rescue, not Thorne's agents."
"And the words?"
Liam looked at Evelyn, his expression firm. "The three words that have become the most expensive in this entire affair: 'Cure, Silence, Aris.'"
The plan was daring, reliant on split-second timing, and placed them in extreme danger. Evelyn felt a rush of professional excitement. This was journalism distilled to its most potent, desperate form.
"When do we move?" she whispered.
Liam checked the patrol schedule and the wind shear. "We move on the next cycle. Get ready, Evelyn. This is where we stop observing and start interfering."