The iron gates of the Melton estate were twelve feet high.
Camille stood in front of them, alone. The white suit gleamed in the morning sun.
She pressed the intercom button.
A camera whirred, focusing on her face.
"Name," a voice demanded. It was Jennings, the head butler.
"Agent X," Camille said calmly. "Tell Horatio I'm here."
There was a pause. "Mr. Melton is not accepting visitors without an appointment. Please leave, or I will release the dogs."
The intercom clicked off.
Camille sighed. "Hard way it is."
She pulled out her phone. It was a burner she had modified the night before. She leaned against the iron bars and started tapping.
She found the estate's local network. The firewall was expensive, but it had a flaw. It hadn't been patched for the latest smart-home update.
Camille executed the script.
Inside the manor, chaos erupted.
The sprinkler system in the pristine gardens exploded to life, drenching the three security guards patrolling the perimeter.
In the main house, the polite classical music playing over the speakers cut out. A split second later, heavy metal death rock blasted at maximum volume.
WAKE UP! WAKE UP!
In his study, Horatio flinched as the music shook the walls.
Blake rushed in, covering his ears. "Sir! The system! Someone hijacked the main server!"
Horatio grabbed his phone. A text message appeared on his private, unlisted number.
Open the gate. Or I raise the temperature in your wine cellar by thirty degrees. Goodbye, 1945 Mouton Rothschild.
Horatio walked to the window. He looked down at the monitor showing the front gate.
The woman in the white suit was leaning casually against the bars, checking her nails.
It was her. The driver. The fighter.
Horatio felt a strange sensation in his chest. It wasn't anger. It was amusement.
"Let her in," Horatio said.
"But sir-"
"Let. Her. In."
The music cut off instantly. The gates groaned and swung open.
Camille pocketed her phone. She walked up the long driveway, her heels clicking on the pavement.
Jennings opened the front door. He looked flustered.
"Mr. Melton is in the library," he said stiffly.
Camille walked past him. "I know the way."
She didn't, but she walked with enough confidence that no one questioned her. She found the double doors at the end of the hall and pushed them open.
Horatio stood by the fireplace. He was taller than he looked from a distance. Broad shoulders. Eyes that were the color of cold steel.
"Camille Haynes," Horatio said. "Race car driver. Martial artist. Hacker. You're a woman of many talents."
"Survival skills," Camille corrected.
Horatio stepped closer. The air between them crackled. "Where is Dr. X?"
Camille reached into her briefcase. She pulled out a slim, encrypted tablet, not the battered medical textbook.
"He's dead," Camille lied. "But I have everything he was working on." She tapped the tablet screen, bringing up a complex molecular model. "And everything he knew is in here." She tapped her temple.
Horatio's eyes narrowed. He reached out, his hand closing around her jaw. His grip was firm, testing.
"Are you playing games with me, Camille?" he asked softly. "My grandfather doesn't have time for games."
Camille didn't flinch. She leaned into his touch, challenging him.
"You can kill me," she said. "And your grandfather dies. Or you can listen to my price."
Horatio stared at her. He felt the pulse in her neck against his thumb. It was steady.
He released her.
"You have five minutes," Horatio said. "Convince me."
