A wave, and the men sprinted forward. One produced a pair of bolt cutters to clip the wire mesh. It took less than three minutes to get through.

They sprinted across the parking lot toward the back of the plain single-story building. There were about thirteen or fourteen vehicles outside. They would belong to both CloudCable’s employees and its outsourced security detail.

Another guard appeared around the east corner. He was walking slowly, relaxed, unaware of any threat. He looked surprised when Jochi shot him in the heart.

They left his body on the ground where it fell.

The nanodrones had photographed a back door to their left. They rushed over to it single file, hugging the building’s wall. Grigor stood back, nodded to one of the men with a combat shotgun. He raised the weapon and fired at the lock plate. It discharged with a loud whump, the plate blowing to pieces.

Grigor moved in and smashed the door open with his foot, a high kick at the shattered metal plate.

Inside was a bright, spacious hallway running the width of the building. A third security guard came running out of a crosscorridor. He’d heard the volley and brought his pistol up in his hands.

Grigor shot him with his carbine at close range, a quick burst stitching across his middle, almost cutting him in two.

Behind him Jochi and the men spread out, left and right, then down the branching corridors. Grigor brought three of them with him and followed the room signs: Telecommunications Equipment, Power Generator, Battery Plant, Control.

He ran toward the control room. Guns chattered in the corridors; the men were clearing out the building. He heard voices. Shouts. Some of them questioning. Some panicked and desperate. He heard more flurries of gunfire. A woman screamed. There was another burst, and the scream died.

The control room had double swinging doors. He shouldered it open and tossed off a flashbang grenade. Then he plunged through into the smoke.

Inside he saw a security guard and an engineer in a white frock. The guard’s hands were clapped over his eyes like he’d been blinded by the detonation. Grigor ran up to him, put the carbine’s muzzle to his forehead and fired. Blood and brains sprayed out behind him in a fan. He crumpled to the floor.

The engineer was squatting beneath a desk, her eyes wide and white. “Don’t hurt me,” she said. “I have three children.”

Her voice trembled. Grigor saw the skin fluttering in the hollow of her throat.

“Where are the network and switching controls?” He kept the rifle pointed at her. “Tell me, and I’ll pretend I didn’t see you.”

She gestured vaguely to the right. “It’s against the wall. The big console. Please don’t hurt me.”

“It shouldn’t hurt,” Grigor said and squeezed the trigger.