Mission Impossibile: Rouge Nation

•°•|CHAPTER 11|•°•

We regrouped at the safe house, the car screeching to a halt as we leaped out, urgency driving our every move. Luther was already at the desk, deeply focused on the computer, but he halted when he saw us charging in.

Dad and I made a beeline for the laptop, intent on splitting the task of memorizing the critical information. Will headed towards the back of the safe house, his face set with determination.

Just as Dad reached for the laptop, intending to open it, Luther's hand landed on the top, closing it firmly. "Ethan, Sara, wait," Luther's voice cut through the room, his tone a mix of urgency and concern.

I stepped forward, my voice trembling with a mix of frustration and desperation. "Uncle Luther, if we're not there in fifteen minutes, Lane will kill Uncle Benji," I pleaded, barely managing to keep my voice steady. Despite the gravity of the situation, Luther didn't move his hand. His eyes met mine with a grave seriousness.

"Your mission is to dismantle the syndicate," Luther said, his voice unwavering. "If Lane gets his hands on that disk, we're not just talking about a few lives. We're talking about unleashing a terrorist superpower on the world." His words were heavy with the weight of what was at stake.

Dad, standing firm beside me, replied with equal intensity. "He'll never take us alive. I won't allow it. We've faced worse and come out on top. We have to see this through." His eyes were steely with resolve.

I nodded in agreement, adding, "We'll have each other's backs, just like we always have. We're not backing down now. This isn't just about saving Uncle Benji; it's about stopping a catastrophe."

I meant every word. The stakes were too high, and we couldn't afford to let Luther's doubts slow us down. We had to act swiftly and decisively.

Luther's expression softened, but the gravity of his decision was clear. He nodded reluctantly, his hand finally lifting from the laptop.

"What happens, Ethan," Will asked, his concern evident as he glanced up from his work, "if you can't make it back?"

Dad met Will's eyes with a steely determination. "We'll make it back," he said firmly, the conviction in his voice leaving no room for doubt. "Just be ready" Will nodded, his face set with a mixture of worry and resolve, and turned back to his task. Luther stepped away from the laptop to assist Will, giving us green light.

Dad's fingers moved deftly over the controls as he activated the disk. The screen flickered, and a message appeared, revealing a recording of Atlee. "Greetings, Prime Minister," Atlee's voice began, smooth and chilling. "If you are viewing this message, it means that you have chosen to activate the syndicate."

I dove into my part of the task, my fingers flying over the keyboard as I activated the accounts. Dad read the lower portion of the screen while I took in the upper half. Atlee's voice continued, his tone matter-of-fact. "This drive provides access to two-point-four billion pounds sterling in untraceable currency. This substantial amount will enable the syndicate to operate undetected for decades. Instructions to access these funds are as follows:"

We managed to memorize the entire disk—fifty percent for me and fifty percent for Dad—in under ten minutes. My photographic memory proved invaluable as we quickly absorbed the crucial information. Once we had everything locked in, we didn't waste a moment. We rushed to our meeting point: a small open air restaurant located near the Tower of London.

The drive felt like it passed in a heartbeat. We arrived in less than five minutes, our urgency mirrored in our swift movements as we entered the restaurant. The place was small and modest, its charm overshadowed by the seriousness of our mission. Scanning the area, we kept our eyes peeled for anyone who might be familiar or out of place. The restaurant, was filled with a mix of locals and tourists, provided a sea of faces and potential allies or enemies.