An encrypted data packet was uploaded to our secure external portal at midnight,” Marcus said. “The sender used a double-blind routing address to hide their identity, but the source code originates from a terminal inside the Meridian building.”
My hand remained on my watch strap as I stared at the blinking cursor.
“Can you trace the terminal?” I asked.
“Not yet,” Marcus said. “Whoever sent this knows our security protocols better than our own vendor does.”
I stood up from the terminal desk, the cold air of the room lingering on my skin. “Lock the file down, Marcus. Do not copy it, and do not upload it to the shared network.”
“It is already isolated,” he said.
I left the server room and took the elevator down to the street, the mid-morning Chicago wind hitting me the moment I stepped onto Wacker Drive. The sky was the color of wet asphalt, and the blue glass high-rises across the river looked cold and distant in the autumn light
A taxi ride to the riverfront diner cost twenty-two dollars, and I watched the meter tick upward as we crawled through the loop traffic.
Arthur Bennett was already sitting in the corner booth when I arrived at twelve o’clock. The diner was noisy with the lunchtime rush, smelling of grilled onions and strong coffee. Arthur looked up from his menu, his face lined with the weariness of a man who had spent forty years protecting a legacy that was slipping through his fingers.
“You look tired, Evelyn,” he said, his gravelly baritone barely carrying over the clatter of plates.
“The pre-merger details are keeping me awake,” I said, sliding into the vinyl booth across from him.
The waitress arrived and poured two cups of coffee. She slid a small plate containing a warm cinnamon roll between us.
“On the house,” she said with a quick wink. “You two look like you are carrying the weight of the city today.”
Arthur smiled, a genuine crease softening the corners of his eyes. “Thank you, dear. My granddaughter tells me I look like a storm cloud lately.”
