The digital clock on Register 1 was frozen in Julian Vance’s peripheral vision.
02:13:45 AM
Fifteen seconds remained before the two-fourteen threshold.
Standing on the wet rubber entrance mat of Store #04, Mac Cole held the nickel-plated Route 04 ticket-punch clamped around the primary red-ink cable. The oily yellow paraffin wax packed inside the tool-steel die foamed with white chemical froth.
Under the heat of the reaction, the thick crimson cord had turned the color of pale, curdled milk.
Dr. Victor Corvo watched the electrostatic field meter on the side of Register 2.
“The voltage drop across the grounding bus is accelerating!” Corvo warned, his voice echoing off the linoleum.
“When Mac severs the first line, the remaining three cords will spike in hydraulic pressure. You will have less than three seconds between punches, Mac!”
