“Adams is in,” Patric texted the group. “Franco is hosting a party at the Dressrious Salon this Sunday. You’ve all been invited, which gives us our window. The evidence is likely on his private server, but it’s only accessible through the computer in his workroom.”
“Excellent. Script’s done. I just need Sarah’s high-res photo to finalize the facial recognition bypass,” Trevor texted.
“Tomorrow, I’ll visit Sarah’s family with a lawyer friend. We’re going to assure her and her parents that they have our full support in taking Franco down. Leave the photo to me; I’ll handle it,” Lady News stated.
“Everything sounds perfect, but there’s a catch,” Patric’s voice crackled in the voice message. “The workroom is a restricted zone, not even the staff are allowed inside. It’s rigged with motion sensors that will be armed the moment Franco leaves for the party. If I teleport in, a silent alarm will instantly alert him and his security detail. The only way in is to disable the system remotely. It’s controlled by an app on either Franco’s phone or his head of security’s device. We need to kill those sensors first; only then can I jump in.”
“Leave that to us,” Report Man replied. “We’ll find a window to lift his phone during the party. Franco will be distracted by his guests; he’ll be a much easier target than his head of security.”
“One more thing,” Patric added. “The computer may be password-protected. Trevor, can your script crack it on-site?”
“Not instantly,” Trevor admitted. “Encryption that high-level takes time we won’t have.”
“I doubt the password is that sophisticated,” Spion interjected. “If Jimmy and Isabel can access it, it’s likely something simple. There might be security hints on the screen, or he might just be using a significant birthday.”
“We’ll be on standby,” Report Man said. “If you hit a login screen, we’ll brainstorm the possibilities in real-time.”
“Whatever the case,” Patric finalized, “if I can’t bypass the computer, I’m pulling the physical server out of the rack. We get those files Sunday, no matter what.”
The days leading up to Sunday passed in a blur of nervous energy. By Friday morning, the final invitations had arrived; the team was officially on the guest list. Lady News had done her part, securing Sarah’s trust. The girl and her parents were ready to file suit the second the files were in hand.
On Friday night, Trevor handed Patric a small flash drive along with a specialized adapter. “It’s a Type-C drive,” Trevor noted, “and since we live in the real world, not a spy movie, I’ve included the adapter just in case his computer is legacy.”
On Saturday afternoon, the group gathered one last time for tea in a private room at the Salon. The atmosphere was heavy. Between sips of Earl Grey and desserts, they voiced the question that had been haunting them all: What if the law was already in Franco’s pocket?
“Senator Style will be there,” Lady News said. “Once we have the files, we’ll hand a copy to him directly. He has the political clout to ensure the police act. If the system is compromised, Franco won’t just sue us for breaking NDAs—he’ll send assassins.”
“It’s a good thing we still live in a country that values free speech,” Report Man said with a grim smile. “I’ve already coordinated with my contacts in the independent media. They’re holding a ‘dead man’s switch’—a full copy of the data. If we go dark or anything happens to us, those files go viral globally within the hour.”
“By Monday, you’ll be on a flight to the Alps,” Spion teased him. “If we all end up dead, the burden of revenge falls on you.”
“Too much pressure,” Report Man laughed, though his eyes remained serious. “Now I have to worry about ‘accidents’ on the ski slopes, too.”
“We shouldn’t be so pessimistic,” Alisa said softly. “I still believe the system can work.”
“We just need more civil servants like you,” Trevor said, his voice unusually gentle.
“I just do what I can,” Alisa murmured, a shy smile touching her lips.
“I’ve been wondering, Alisa,” Spion interjected, catching Alisa’s shy smile, looking at Alisa and Patric. “What brought you and Patric together? How did you two discover Franco’s secret in the first place?”
Alisa took a slow sip of her tea. “Much like the rest of you, I had a catalyst,” Alisa began. “Five months ago, during a trip to Buffalo, I met a girl named Thumbelina. She was only fifteen and spoke almost no English. She’d been kidnapped, trafficked into this country, and sold to one of Franco’s clubs. She was one of the lucky ones; she escaped. But most victims like her are too terrified to sue. They come from poor families or third-world countries, and they feel utterly alone. They feel they have no choice but to endure the abuse. That is how men like Franco build their empires—on the backs of people who have lost hope in their lives. That’s the real tragedy.”
“What happened to her?” Lady News asked, her voice tight with concern.
“My friends are looking after her. She’s safe now,” Alisa replied.
“Thumbelina’s story was what made me decide to kill him,” Patric said, the shadows of the room playing across his face. “At first, I didn’t actually want revenge for my family. My father lost track of him when he fled to this country, and didn’t want to pursue it anyway. I only discovered his whereabouts through a news report about his daughter’s wedding. Just then, headquarters decided to set up a branch in New Athens. I volunteered for the mission; I just wanted to pay him a visit and ask him to make a donation to the Messengers. Later, I asked Alisa about him, and she told me what happened to Thumbelina. We agreed then that he is a monster, a monster that needs to be killed.”
“I never imagined our first official case would be this dark,” Report Man sighed heavily.
The room fell silent as the true scale of the mission settled over them.