The hum of the server room was a low, rhythmic pulse, the heartbeat of a digital underworld. Jax sat in the glow of three monitors, his fingers dancing over a mechanical keyboard. On the center screen, a progress bar crawled forward with agonizing slowness.
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He didn't notice his bedroom door creak open. He didn't see the dark figures in tactical gear entering the hallway. He was too busy adjusting the hydrophone, listening to the rhythmic thump-thump-thump of a destroyer's engines—not realizing the sound was coming from right outside his window. The hum of the server room was a