Zero pov
I reach Justin’s place in no time.
He lives in one of the most crowded neighbourhoods, perfect for taking cover as he indulges himself in computers.
The house has no windows and no car parked outside, just a steel door with a small camera eye staring down at me. I press the bell. A second later a flat machine voice speaks from a hidden speaker.
“Disarm.”
I pull the gun from my waist, pop the clip, and set both pieces on the little shelf that slides out from the wall. The door clicks open on its own and I step inside.
Justin’s room is a cave of screens. Three walls are covered in monitors, some showing lines of code scrolling like rain, others frozen on maps, grainy traffic cams, faces. Cables snake across the floor and a single desk lamp burns over his chair. He sits hunched
