Chapter 3: The Warsaw Gambit
Warsaw was colder than Berlin, and tonight, the air carried the kind of chill that seeped into a man’s bones. Jasper Hawke stepped out of the railway station, pulling his coat tighter as he merged into the late-night crowd.
He had taken the train instead of flying—less scrutiny, fewer digital footprints. He had also swapped identities twice along the way, using old tradecraft tricks to stay ahead of anyone watching. If Zmeyevich was behind the blackout, they wouldn’t let him waltz into their operation unnoticed.
Hawke had no intention of making their job easier.
The Facility
The address Lena had given him led to an abandoned Soviet-era textile factory on the outskirts of the city. From the outside, it looked like it hadn’t seen activity in decades—cracked walls, shattered windows, rusted fences.
But Hawke wasn’t fooled.
The real site wasn’t above ground.
A quarter-mile from the factory, he found what he was looking for—a service tunnel, concealed beneath an overgrown lot. The entrance was locked with an old iron grate, but the SVR-029 key fit perfectly.
Click.
The gate swung open, revealing a set of concrete stairs that disappeared into darkness. Hawke pulled a small tactical flashlight from his pocket, sweeping the beam across the walls. Old Soviet markings, moisture stains, exposed pipes.
This was the kind of place built to outlive governments.
He descended in silence.
Below the Surface
At the bottom of the stairs, the tunnel stretched forward, lined with flickering industrial lights. He moved cautiously, keeping close to the walls.
About thirty meters in, the corridor split. One path led to an old maintenance shaft; the other led to a reinforced steel door.
Bingo.
Hawke studied the panel beside the door—biometric scanner, keypad, and an old-fashioned keyhole. He inserted the SVR-029 key, and the system chirped in recognition.
The lock hissed, then clicked open.
He stepped inside.
The room beyond was small, but its importance was undeniable—a command center, buried deep underground. Banks of outdated servers lined the walls, still running. The air was stale, filled with the low hum of machines.
At the far end of the room, a single workstation was active.
Hawke approached, scanning the screen. The interface was crude—old Soviet-era encryption, overlaid with modern code. Someone had repurposed this place, turning it into a secure data hub.
And then he saw it.
A transmission log.
Hawke’s eyes narrowed as he scrolled through the records. The system had relayed a massive data burst just before the global blackout—coordinates, coded messages, financial transactions.
He wasn’t looking at just a cyberattack.
He was looking at a blueprint for global destabilization.
Before he could process further, something changed.
A red warning flashed across the screen.
UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED.
The moment Hawke read it, he knew.
They were already coming for him.
The Ambush
A metallic clank echoed from the corridor.
Footsteps.
Hawke moved fast, shutting down the console and drawing his pistol. He flattened himself against the wall just as the door burst open.
Two men in tactical gear stormed in, rifles raised.
Hawke fired first.
His silenced rounds struck clean—one in the throat, the other in the chest. Both men dropped before they could even react.
But there would be more.
He swept their gear for anything useful. One of them had an encrypted comm device. Hawke pocketed it and slipped back into the corridor.
Just as he did, more voices echoed from the far end.
They weren’t here to take prisoners.
Hawke sprinted toward the maintenance shaft, his instincts screaming at him to move faster. He reached it just as automatic fire shredded the walls behind him. Concrete exploded in a shower of dust and debris.
No time to hesitate.
He leapt down the shaft, catching a rusted ladder and sliding several meters before dropping into the underground sewer line. The stench was overpowering, but Hawke didn’t stop. He ran, following the tunnels, until he found an exit grate leading back to the streets of Warsaw.
As he emerged, he didn’t stop moving.
This was bigger than he had realized.
The blackout was just the first phase.
And whatever came next…
Would be far worse.
