They let him through each time. On the third instance they offered him an escort. Holtzmann declined and drove on.

At the DHS campus he found no one at the outside gate. The automated defenses were active. He waved his badge, held his eye up to the retinal scanner, and the gate rose, letting him and his vehicle onto the grounds.

Inside the building it was a ghost land. The hallways were empty. Lights were off. Holtzmann fetched his slate from his office, made his way to the Human Subjects wing. The same guard was there. He looked up in surprise as Holtzmann approached.

“I want to see Shankari,” Holtzmann told the man.

“Director Holtzmann… We’re on emergency staffing only. I don’t have anyone to bring him to you.”

“Issue me a taser,” Holtzmann told the man. “I’ll be fine.”

The guard looked flustered. “Director… the protocol is to have security with you. The prisoner’s dangerous…”

Holtzmann stared the man down. “The protocol doesn’t work today. The prisoner is a college student, and you have us on camera.” He pointed at the bank of screens in front of the man. “I need to talk to Shankari. This is a national security matter. Now issue me that taser.”

Three minutes later he opened the door to Shankari’s cell, his cane in one hand, a taser in the other.

Rangan looked up as the door opened. Holtzman was back. His heart beat faster.

“Have you reconsidered?” Holtzmann asked him. “Thought of anything new?”

Rangan shook his head. “I’ve told you everything.”

[holtzmann]File transfer request. File: tonight.txt. Accept? Y/N

[rangan]Y

A file started downloading to his brain.

“Keep thinking,” Holtzmann told him. “I’ll be back tonight, and if you haven’t thought of something new then, you’re going to regret it.”

The file download completed. Then Holtzmann turned and left the cell, closing the door behind him.

Rangan waited, then opened the file.

Inside he found instructions. Instructions for his escape, and for the children’s.

Holtzmann returned the taser to the guard. “See?” he told the man. “No problem at all.”

The electronics lab was on the fifth floor. Holtzmann used his badge to unlock the door, let himself in, and flipped on the lights.

He knew what he needed. And it must be here somewhere. He pulled up the inventory on the open terminal in the lab, and started hunting.

Two hours later, in frustration, he gave up on finding exactly what he was looking for. The foil format was fifteen years old, and had only ever found narrow usage. No new readers for it had been built in a decade. There were readers here that could load the foil, could read the data on it. But none of them would talk to a modern slate or workstation.

He wasn’t going to find a ready-made solution. He was going to have to build one.