No. Encrypted data. On a Nexus frequency. Holtzmann looked left and right, scanning the crowd, oblivious to Joe Duran’s scowl.

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There, it was coming from behind him.

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And another…

He craned his neck to look backwards, ignoring the frowns of those behind him. There was nothing unusual back there. Senior Homeland Security people from all branches – FBI, TSA, DEA, Coast Guard, ERD – seated on white plastic chairs. A Secret Service agent, cool in mirrored glasses, walking slowly down the center aisle and towards the front of the crowd. In the far back, a semicircle of news cameras and reporters.

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The signal came loud and clear from somewhere back there.

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And the shorter reply.

They both came from… From…

Oh God. Dear God.

Kade woke from his drugged slumber in the clinic bed. It was dark outside the windows. He blinked in confusion. What had woken him? Ling again?

[Alert] [Alert] [Alert]

Then he saw the blinking in the corner of his eye. High priority notification. Permission to alert him while he was sleeping.

Rangan? Ilya? Had the agents he’d let loose on the net found them?

No. The other alert.

[Alert: Coercion Code Sample Alpha Detected. Status: Active]

More coercion code. Not just any coercion code. A piece he’d seen just once before, days ago. Software that turned a human into a robot, into an assassin. The most sophisticated he’d seen.

And now his agents had spotted that code again, in a different mind. And the code was active.

Sleep vanished from Kade’s mind. Open the alert. Click on the link to the mind. Confirm the encrypted connection. Activate the back door, full immersion. Send the passcode.

And he was in.

Holtzmann’s eyes locked on the source of the Nexus transmissions. The suit. The mirrored glasses. The boosted muscle. It was the Secret Service agent who was communicating via Nexus.

Fear froze him.

Oh no. Please, no.

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The Secret Service man reached into his jacket and something let loose its grip on Martin Holtzmann.

“HE’S GOT A GUN!” Holtzmann surged to his feet, shouting at the top of his lungs, pointing at the man.

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Time slowed to a crawl. The assassin’s hand came out out out of his jacket, a giant pistol gripped tight. Two other Secret Service agents became human blurs, sprinting at impossible speed towards the man with the gun. Joe Duran was coming to his feet, staring at Holtzmann, mouth open. Holtzmann’s heart skipped a beat, and all his senses narrowed to the man with the gun, and this single awful moment.

Gun!

There was a gun in his hand, and it was firing. He was shooting at a man at a podium up ahead.