Chapter 25 · The Second Key

"Say that again." Knox's voice came out flat, but his hand was still on my jaw, thumb pressed under my chin like he hadn't heard the radio at all.

The voice on the other end didn't slow down. "North loft panel's live. Somebody's cycling the pins. It's not Duarte, it's not me, and it sure as hell ain't her."

He let go of my face like it burned him.

"Define cycling," I said. My hand was still flat on his chest, right over the spot where his heart was going too fast for a man who wanted to look calm. I didn't move it. I wanted him to know I felt it.

"Trial and error," he said. "Somebody's guessing my half of the code."

"Nobody guesses a six-digit rolling key, Knox."

"No," he said. "They copy it."

That word sat between us for a second, ugly and specific. Copy. Meaning somebody had been close enough to him, long enough, to lift it clean.

The intercom crackled again, different voice this time, thinner, younger. "Boss, we got a problem down here too. Cleanup's rerouting the wash corridor vent. Says the smoke damper's stuck open on B side."

Knox's whole body changed.