Page 18 of Shadowed Hearts: Frost
Cole nods, isolating what appears to be a unique identifier. For a moment, triumph flares in my chest as Cole captures it. Then the code dissolves before our eyes, fragmenting and disappearing.
"Shit." The curse escapes before I can stop it.
"Wait—" Cole's fingers fly across the keyboard. "It's reappearing... payment processing system now."
I watch as Cole lunges for it digitally, only to have it evaporate again. My heart rate increases by exactly 10 beats per minute.
This isn't random. This is a pattern. This is a game.
Xander squeezes past me to look at the screen, his bulky frame making the already small space feel claustrophobic. He smells of gunpowder and that energy drink he's always consuming.
"Anyone else feel like we're being played with?"
"Quiet," Cole mutters, focused entirely on the monitors. "The signature's surfacing again—traffic control system two blocks away."
The code stays visible just long enough for Cole to tag it before vanishing. A fourth trail appears and disappears, leaving us staring at empty code.
"He's good," I admit reluctantly, the words tasting unfamiliar. "Too good to be making these kinds of mistakesunless..." My voice trails off as realization dawns. "He wants us to follow."
"Bingo." Xander taps the metal wall of the van. "I'm going to do another perimeter check. Getting claustrophobic in here." He squeezes past us both, his exit momentarily relieving the cramped conditions before the door closes again.
My eyes burn from staring at the screens too long. Two hours and seventeen minutes since we began this digital chase. The van's interior has darkened as night falls outside, and now the glow of monitors casts blue light across our faces. I can feel the tension pulling at my jaw.
My shoulders ache from hunching forward in the confined space, but I maintain my position, watching Cole work with methodical precision.
"This is unlike any breach pattern I've seen," Cole says, a rare note of excitement coloring his typically measured tone. "They're leading us through encrypted channels that shouldn't even exist."
I don't respond. My focus remains absolute as Cole tracks the digital signature through its latest disappearing act. Each time he gets close, it vanishes, only to reappear elsewhere in an increasingly complex network.
"It's like trying to catch smoke with bare hands." Cole's usual formal speech is momentarily replaced by frustration.
A fragment of code materializes on the center screen—what looks like banking information with transaction logs from an offshore account linked to Paradise Elite. My pulse quickens.
"There. Financial records." I point to the data packet as Cole rapidly isolates it. "Might be what Jenny was investigating before she was killed."
The information fragments before our eyes, dissolving into scattered code.
"Fuck."
The van door slides open, bringing in a blast of cool air as Xander returns, immediately making the space feel half its previous size. "Same thing happened with those travel documents from the Cayman server. Ten more seconds and we'd have had actual names."
Cole raises a hand for silence as an alert pings on the left monitor. The signature has reappeared, this time inside a government database with security clearance levels that should be impenetrable.
An impressed whistle comes from Xander as Cole navigates through another elegant bypass of a normally secure firewall.
"Holy shit, this hacker just walked through the DOD's secondary encryption like it was a dollar store padlock." Xander leans against the van wall and accidentally jostling my shoulder.
I shift in my seat, maintaining a precise distance from both men despite the confined quarters.
"They're studying our methods while showing us just enough to keep us interested." My voice comes out flat, but inside, something unfamiliar stirs—a combination of frustration and respect.
"You almost sound impressed, Frost." Cole glances over his shoulder at me, a hint of surprise in his eyes.
I don't deny it. Professional recognition isn't the same as weakness.
"Pull up the traffic cam feeds," I direct Cole, who complies with efficient keystrokes.
The signature appears again, now accessing a traffic camera feed across from Temple Coffee Roasters. The timestamp shows yesterday morning, precisely when I was there. An image freezes on the screen: me, walking into the café.
