Page 27 of Rescuing Ally, Part 2 (CHARLIE Team: Guardian Hostage Rescue Specialists #8)

TWENTY-FOUR

First Breakthrough

HANK

The numbers track themselves as I crack open a beer on our condo balcony.

A day has passed since the beach meeting with Collins, and the Pacific stretches endlessly before us, painted gold by late-afternoon sun.

Somewhere out there, Ally waits for rescue.

But for the first time since Harrison’s betrayal, we have a plan that might work.

Gabe settles into the chair beside me, his beer already half empty. The tension that’s been riding his shoulders since our fight has eased, replaced by something resembling the focused calm I recognize from mission prep.

“Training exercise starts tomorrow.” I keep my voice level, conversational. The kind of statement that would sound routine to anyone listening through nanobots. “Could be a week, maybe longer.”

“About time.” Gabe takes another pull from his bottle. “Been going stir-crazy sitting around here.”

The casual banter masks the truth we can’t speak aloud. Tomorrow, we disappear into Collins’s facility to begin the real work. The work that might finally bring our women home.

A seagull lands on the balcony railing, head tilting as it studies us with one black eye. Gabe tosses a piece of the sandwich he’s been picking at and the gull snaps it up.

“Remember that deployment in Syria?” I grin, and for a moment it’s like the old days. “When you spent three hours calculating blast patterns for a door that turned out to be unlocked?”

“It wasn’t unlocked when I started the calculations,” Gabe counters. “You just got impatient and kicked it open.”

“Worked, didn’t it?”

“Pure luck.”

“Skill,” I correct, then pause. “Besides, someone had to balance out your overthinking.”

The easy rhythm of our banter feels good. Right. Like pieces of ourselves clicking back into place after days of distance. We’ve been partners too long to let personal shit destroy what works between us.

“This new assignment,” I continue for our invisible audience, “sounds like it’ll test everything we’ve learned.”

“Good. I’m ready to put our training to use.” Gabe’s response carries an edge that anyone listening would interpret as professional eagerness.

But I hear the real message underneath. We’re both ready to do whatever it takes to find Ally.

The next day, we travel down to Palo Alto. The facility appears unremarkable from the surface—just another corporate campus—but Collins leads us through security checkpoints that reveal what he has built underneath.

“Standard decontamination protocols,” Collins explains as we approach an airlock system. “Corporate policy for all classified projects requiring clean room procedures.”

He gestures to what appears to be a high-tech car wash. “Same process Guardian HRS uses, I’m sure.”

The process takes twenty minutes. We strip down, submit to electromagnetic pulses that make my teeth ache, then dress in clean clothes. When we emerge, Jeb, who came ahead of us, runs a scanner over each of us.

“Clean,” he confirms. “No electronic signatures detected.”

Only then does the massive vault door swing open, revealing what Collins has built for us.

“Complete electromagnetic isolation,” Collins explains as we enter. “No signal gets in or out unless we want it to.”

The facility stretches out like something from a science fiction movie. Clean rooms, advanced equipment, specialists in lab coats.

“Dr. Rachel Kim, quantum physicist. Dr. James Rodriguez, AI researcher. Dr. Michael Okafor, nanotech engineer.” Collins makes introductions. “They understand what’s at stake.”

Dr. Kim steps forward, offering a firm handshake. “We’ve been briefed on the tactical situation. I want you to know—we understand what’s at stake here.”

The extraction process unfolds over the next hour. Dr. Kim operates electromagnetic field generators while Dr. Rodriguez monitors quantum signatures. Gabe and I watch from outside the sealed chamber, ready to abort if anything goes wrong.

“Isolation field active,” Dr. Kim announces. “Quantum entanglement signatures decreasing.”

Minutes stretch like hours. Each movement tested and verified.

“Extraction complete,” Dr. Okafor finally announces. “Specimen isolated and secured.”

Relief floods the room. Collins exhales slowly. Jeb grins like he’s witnessed magic.

“Phase one complete,” Dr. Kim says. “Now the real work begins.”

“Individual units have limited processing power,” Dr. Rodriguez explains, manipulating holographic displays that show the nanobot’s internal structure.

“But they’re an adaptive learning system and share information through quantum entanglement, creating a distributed intelligence network.

At scale, the hive mind has processing capabilities that rival supercomputers. ”

“How distributed?” Gabe asks the question I’m thinking.

“Global, potentially,” Dr. Okafor responds grimly. “Every nanobot in the network has access to information gathered by every other nanobot. Complete intelligence sharing in real time.”

The implications stagger me. Malfor hasn’t just been watching Guardian HRS—he’s been building a worldwide surveillance network using nanobots deployed through various operations.

“But we don’t need a full hive to reverse-engineer them,” Dr. Kim adds, excitement building in her voice. “The quantum entanglement connection should work both ways. If we can decode the communication protocols from even isolated specimens…”

“We can track the network back to its source,” I finish, understanding flooding through me.

“Exactly. Every nanobot maintains constant communication with its origin station. Find that station and we’ll locate Malfor’s operational centers.”

Collins leans forward, billionaire intensity focused like a laser. “How long?”

“Unknown. The quantum encryption is unlike anything we’ve seen, but…” Dr. Kim hesitates.

“But?” I press.

“We’re analyzing the communication protocols from the isolated specimens. If we can decode how they work, how they authenticate with the network, we might be able to replicate them.”

“Replicate them?” Gabe asks.

“Build our own nanobots,” Dr. Rodriguez explains. “Trojan horses that look identical to Malfor’s but carry our payload instead of his.”

“What kind of payload?” Collins leans forward, billionaire intensity focused.

“Disruption code. Network viruses. Maybe complete a system shutdown, like a dead man’s switch.” Dr. Okafor lists the possibilities. “We don’t know what’s possible yet. The quantum entanglement technology is beyond anything we’ve seen. But I see why he took Miss Collins.”

“Why?”

“Her research is specifically about quantum entanglement applications. He needs her expertise to maintain and expand his network,” Dr. Rodriguez adds.

“Which means wherever he’s running his quantum operations from, that’s where we’ll find her,” Gabe concludes.

“Exactly. But we get one shot at inserting our Trojan horse. The moment Malfor detects foreign nanobots in his network, he’ll shut everything down and relocate.”

“Clock starts ticking the moment we deploy,” I state, understanding the reality.

“Maybe less if his security systems are more sophisticated than we think,” Dr. Kim warns.

“We do it,” Collins states with finality. “Whatever it takes.”

I study the faces around the room—scientists driven by curiosity, a father desperate to save his daughter, and specialists willing to risk everything for a chance at justice.

But experience has taught me that hope can be the most dangerous emotion in tactical operations. Hope makes you take risks. Hope makes you see opportunities where only traps exist.