Static crackled through Julian Vance’s single-ear telephone headset like grease popping in a hot iron skillet.
Julian wedged the heavy bakelite earpiece between his left shoulder and his ear, keeping his left hand clamped to Cash Drawer #2. With his bandaged right hand, he plugged the rubber acoustic patch-cord from Mobile Register Annex #04-B directly into the PosLink modem interface jack on the substation wall.
Eight miles to the southeast, across the flooded rail yards of District 10, the sound of heavy iron pry-bars hammering against cold-storage aluminum echoed through the receiver.
“Julian! Can you hear me?” Rosa Delgado’s voice was sharp, breathless, and furious.
Rosa was the senior relief clerk holding Register One at Store #19, situated directly adjacent to the District 10 Central Dairy & Water Cold-Storage Depot. Behind her voice, Julian could hear the deep, industrial drone of ammonia chillers and the panicked shouts of twelve young warehouse clerks.
“I hear you, Rosa,” Julian answered, his voice steady. “Elena, Mac, and Corvo just cleared the porch of the District 4 Substation. We’re on the threshold of the Master Control Room.
What’s your situation?”
“We’re under siege!” Rosa yelled over the ear-splitting clang of iron against steel. “Four Notary Health-Inspectors in white rubber butcher aprons just kicked in the shipping bay doors!
