Page 77 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2

“The signal contains geographic coordinates that match exactly with the facility location we already identified,” Dr. Rodriguez explains. “Plus, there’s this embedded in the data stream.”

He highlights a sequence that, when isolated, repeats in a pattern familiar to anyone with military training.

“SOS,” Hank says quietly.

“Not just SOS,” Dr. Kim adds. “There’s more data embedded in the transmission. We’re still decrypting it, but preliminaryanalysis suggests it contains information about the facility’s security systems.”

“She’s giving us a way in,” I breathe.

Hank and I exchange looks across the lab space. For the first time since Harrison’s betrayal, we have actionable intelligence. A target we can hit. A place where Ally isn’t just waiting for rescue—she’s actively helping us get to her.

“We need to brief the team,” Hank says, his brain switching to mission mode.

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The transition from artificial underground lighting to natural Pacific sunset hits hard. After the drive from Palo Alto and the gondola ride down the cliff—complete with Mitzy’s micro-EMP treatment to fry any nanobots that might have attached themselves since leaving the clean facility—Hank and I emerge onto the beach, squinting against golden light that paints the waves in colors no holographic display could replicate.

Salt air fills my lungs, carrying scents of kelp and distant storms that make the facility’s recycled atmosphere taste like plastic by comparison.

Charlie team waits around the familiar bonfire setup, faces painted bronze and shadowed by dancing flames. Sam and CJ stand near the water’s edge, their presence commanding even in this informal setting. Mitzy crouches beside her equipment, psychedelic hair catching firelight.

Collins paces near the bonfire’s outer edge, expensive shoes crunching against smooth stones with restless energy that screams billionaire impatience.

“Report.” Sam’s single word cuts through the sound of waves against rock.

“We have coordinates.” I drop the intelligence like a live grenade into the circle. “Our Trojan horse integrated with Malfor’s network. We know where he is.”

The reaction is immediate.

“Where?” Collins demands, stopping his pacing mid-step.

“South Pacific. Remote island installation approximately eight hundred nautical miles southwest of Hawaii.” Hank provides coordinates with his usual precision. “Significant infrastructure. Deep-water harbor. Communication arrays. Everything consistent with a major operational center.”

“How confident are we?” CJ cuts straight to the heart of it.

“Quantum signatures confirm direct communication with this location,” I respond. “No intermediary nodes. No relay stations. This is the source of the network controlling the nanobots.”

Hank and I exchange a quick glance. We’d agreed to hold back the most important piece of intelligence until we could verify it further, but the weight of it burns in my chest like a live coal.

Collins stops pacing completely, his focus converging on mission possibilities. “How fast can you deploy?”

“We need to plan this properly first,” Hank’s voice stays level, controlled. “Verify the intel. Figure out what we need. Make sure we do this right.”

My jaw tightens. I want to move now, screw procedure.

“Standard mission planning protocols,” Sam decides, his voice settling the debate. “Seventy-two hours minimum for intelligence assessment and operational preparation.”

“Seventy-two hours?” Collins’s voice rises. “We’re talking about my daughter’s life.”

At least, I’m not the only one who wants to move yesterday. Good to have Collins on my side, even if Hank isn’t.

“We’re talking about all their lives,” CJ responds with granite certainty. “Getting them killed because we rushed into a trap doesn’t serve anyone.”

Each man knows that proper operations require time, patience, methodical preparation.

“Forty-eight hours,” Collins negotiates like he’s closing a corporate deal. “Surely that’s enough time to plan a rescue mission.”

Collins stares at me across the firelight, his intensity meeting my demolitions expertise in a contest of wills that could determine mission success or failure.