The signal indicator bars flickered, then jumped to full strength as the car’s internal hotspot connected.

“I’m in,” I said, my fingers flying across the virtual keyboard.

A red warning banner flashed across my screen.

*WARNING: Directory ‘Logistics_Main’ deletion in progress. 14% complete.*

“Arthur is already deleting the shipping files,” I said, my voice trembling. “He’s using a script.”

“Can you kill the script?” Adrian asked, shifting the car into reverse.

“I have to revoke his administrator credentials first,” I said. “But he has locked me out of the main server group.”

Through the rear-view mirror, I saw Marcus emerge from the cellar doors, his clothes soaked, his face contorted in rage.

He pointed a gun directly at our windshield.

“Hold on,” Adrian said.

He slammed his foot on the accelerator.

The SUV surged backward, the tires screeching on the polished concrete.

Marcus scrambled out of the way as the rear bumper of the SUV smashed through the wooden garage doors.

The wood splintered with a deafening crash, and we burst out into the cool Chicago night.

Rain was falling hard now, washing the cellar dust from the windshield.