I forced a direct mirror command, cloning the encrypted partition onto my drive.

Outside, the gravel crunched.

The sound was faint, nearly drowned out by the drumming rain, but I heard it.

Steps were approaching the wooden porch of the office.

“Natalie, it’s at eighty percent,” Madison whispered, her eyes glued to the bar.

“Cancel the secondary verification,” I ordered.

“It might corrupt the files,” she said.

“Do it.”

She struck the escape key, and the computer beeped softly.

The progress bar jumped to ninety-nine percent.

The wooden floorboards of the porch creaked outside the door.

I drew my service weapon, holding it low against my thigh.

I stepped away from the desk, positioning myself near the filing cabinet where I had a clear angle of the entryway.

“Put the drives in your pocket,” I whispered to Madison.

She pulled both flash drives from the USB ports and shoved them into her jeans.

The doorknob jiggled.

The heavy brass lock clicked as a key turned slowly in the cylinder.

I raised the pistol, aligning the sights with the center of the door.