Page 125 of Twist of Fate

“I mean buy you time.” Hale glanced toward the corridor behind them. “Destroy it, Luke. I’ll distract them.”

He stood outside the server room with one hand on the panel and the other braced against the frame, as though he could hold the entire building back by force.

A masked figure appeared at the far edge of the landing.

Luke lifted his chin. “Tell me what to shut down.”

“Back row, third rack from the left. The main routing console.” Hale pointed past him. “Pull the black-and-yellow isolation breaker first, then turn the red emergency key. That will trigger the local shutdown.”

Hale pulled the keycard free and held it out. “Take this. You may need my credentials if the system resists the shutdown.”

Luke took it and slipped it into his pocket. “Will this open the server-room door?”

“Not from the inside. The reader is out here.”

Of course it was.

“Will shutting it down stop the tracking?”

“It should.”

Luke held his gaze for a beat, then nodded. “Seal the door.”

Hale slammed his hand against the panel, and the server-room door began to close.

Luke backed away as the gap narrowed. Through it, he saw Hale turn toward the approaching intruders and raise his empty hands. It looked enough like surrender to make them hesitate.

That was all Hale needed it to do.

The door sealed, and the locks engaged.

Luke turned and ran between the racks. The grated metal floor rang beneath his boots while cold air blasted upward from the vents, turning the sweat along his spine icy.

A muffled command sounded beyond the sealed door.

Hale answered, but the steel swallowed his words. A sharp impact cut him off.

Then silence.

Luke kept running.

The servers rose on both sides of him in black rows, their status lights blinking green, amber, and blue.

Back row. Third rack from the left.

He counted as he ran. The routing console glowed at shoulder height behind a clear security panel. A card reader waited beside it.

Luke pulled Hale’s keycard from his pocket and swiped it. The reader flashed green, and the panel released. Below the screen, a breaker box sat recessed into the rack, each control marked with a neatly printed label. Luke found the black-and-yellow isolation breaker.

A heavy blow struck the server-room door.

He pulled the breaker down. The server lights flickered. An alarm screamed as red strobes flashed overhead. The fans dipped, surged, then steadied into a lower, rougher rhythm.

The console screen changed.

LOCAL OVERRIDE INITIATED.

MANUAL KEY REQUIRED.