“They are casualties of a larger necessity,” Caroline said.

“You are a soldier, Natalie.”

“You know how to calculate acceptable losses.”

“Your father is not an acceptable loss,” I said.

“Then give me the drive,” she repeated.

Her hand was still open, waiting.

Above us, the sound of boots scrambled across the concrete ceiling.

A loud shout echoed down the stairwell, cut short by a burst of automatic fire.

“They’re coming down!” one of the tactical officers yelled.

He turned his rifle toward the heavy steel door at the top of the stairs.

“Caroline, we have to move,” the officer said.

“The perimeter is breached.”

Caroline did not look at him.

“Five seconds, Natalie,” she said.

“The drive, or I let them take it from your body.”

My fingers tightened on the toggle switch behind my back.

I memorized the layout of the terminal keys without looking.

“He told me how to lock it down,” I whispered.

Caroline’s eyes narrowed.

“What?” she asked.

“Raymond,” I said.

“He knew you would come here.”

“He knew you would try to save the program.”

I flipped the toggle switch.