09:28 a.m. - Vault 47B
The holographic cursor pulsed: ENTER PASSPHRASE.
Shen Yu knelt next to their slumped aunt, fingers at her carotid. "Tranq dart, twenty cc. She'll wake cranky in about ninety minutes, so we have until then to finish this."
Manning had stared at him-their eyes were green and the same, so was the widow's peak-but burn scars on the left side of his face formed a nasty web from eyebrow down to jaw. "You died in Macau," she said stupidly.
"Ghost died in Macau," he corrected. "I just changed masks." The flick of his wrist had sent the tranq pistol into a sleeve holster. "Long story and later. Right now we need the phrase."
Xu Xiao's Glock had not wavered. "You've been running Triad errands, Yu. Why should I trust you?"
"Because the alternative means letting Aunt Wen wake up and sell Phoenix to the highest bidder." Yu tapped on the hologram. "Only three living people know the passphrase. Our mother, who can't speak. Aunt Wen, who'd rather watch the world burn. And me-I cracked Father's mnemonic in the hospital in Macau while I was learning to walk again."
Manning's pulse thudded. "What is it?"
Yu hesitated, his gaze roaming among the guards. "Not here. The vault is audio-logged. Follow me."
He strode toward a distant wall and pressed a panel that slid aside with a hiss, revealing a service corridor-cold with raw limestone and illuminated with emergency LED strips. The door sealed behind them, dampening the whir of turbines humming within the vault.
• Corridor-09:31 a.m.
As the passage narrowed, they walked in single file. Water dripped from overhead pipes filling the air with fresh stone and ozone. Yu halted before an alcove with a size barely larger than a confessional. In there were some rusty breaker boxes, a rotary phone bolted to the wall, and a single-speaker installation.
He picked up the phone. "Dead line-no signal. Perfect." He turned to Manning. "The passphrase is a lullaby. Only our mother ever sang it. Father embedded it into the melody of Phoenix's boot sequence. I need you to listen to it once and then repeat it-exact rhythm and exact pitch."
He closed his eyes and hummed four bars:
"Sleep little phoenix, under the moon,
Ash becomes silver, midnight turns soon.
Fire is promise, water is lie,
Wake when the copper river runs dry."
The tune was in a minor key, almost a funeral dirge. Manning felt it turning in a direction toward memories she was not even aware existed-her mother was singing in some Shanghai apartment long reduced to rubble.
Yu opened his eyes. "One wrong note and Phoenix bricks itself forever."
Xu Xiao spoke for the first time since they entered. "What if she freezes?"
"Then we all lose. Are you ready?"
Manning swallowed. Once shaky but spot on, she hummed the melody. Yu nodded. "Once more."
She closed her eyes, allowing the notes to blaze into her muscle memory. When she opened her eyes, Yu had a small tuner-a clip used by violinists-in his hand. "Good. Perfect pitch."
They'd walked back the way they had come. The vault door slid open, the hologram still blinking: ENTER PASSPHRASE.
• 09:37 a.m.
Manning stepped up to the console. A virtual piano keyboard appeared. She laid her splinted right wrist across it and with her left index finger tapped the melody note by note. Each key had emitted soft chimes; the holographic phoenix flared brighter by the end of each bar.
The final note hung in suspension in the air, and then it disappeared. Text scrolled:
PHOENIX UNLOCKED-CORE ACCESS GRANTED
SELECT MODE:
1. DEPLOY
2. DELETE
3. SPLIT
Shen Yu exhaled. "Option three-splits the algorithm into seven shards, scatters them across dark nodes. Phoenix dies, but can't be rebuilt by anyone else."
With a tightening of Xu Xiao's jaw, "Option two-complete deletion. Clean slate."
Manning stared at the choices. "Deploy means global market manipulation in under six hours. Delete means every Triad faction will hunt us forever. Split gives us time."
Before anyone could choose, Aunt Wen stirred on the floor. The tranq was not holding her for as long as it should have. Her eyes fluttered open, unfocused, finally honing in on the hologram.
"Deploy," she croaked. "If you do, I give you the world."
Xu Xiao raised the Glock. "You've done enough giving."
Wen laughed. The sound was rasping. "Do you think that deleting Phoenix stops them? They'll just build another. At least with me steering we can control the crash."
Manning's hand hovered over the console. She looked to Yu. "Father built this to protect us. Not to rule."
Yu nodded. "Split. Let it sleep in pieces."
Manning tapped 3.
The hologram convulsed—Phoenix fracturing into seven shards of light that shot into the walls and vanished. A loading bar: SCATTERING... 12%... 24%...
Wen screamed—an animal sound, raw and guttural. She lunged for Manning, claws extended. Xu Xiao positioned himself between them, catching her wrist and twisting it. The Glock pressed under her chin.
"Enough," he said, quiet. "It's time to end this."
Wen spat blood. "It will never be over."
• 09:41 a.m.
The last shard was gone. The vault lights went dim and reddened. A recorded female voice announced calmly:
PHOENIX DECOMMISSION COMPLETE. FACILITY LOCKDOWN IN 60 SECONDS.
An alarm began to pulse.
Shen Yu was moving. Snatching up the tablet, he shovelled it into the duffel. "Exit route-service elevator to the river tunnel. Boat waiting."
Manning hesitated, looking down at Wen. Xu Xiao's finger tightened on the trigger.
"Don't," Manning called. "She's family."
"Family tried to kill you twice."
"And failed twice. Let her live with the ashes."
Xu Xiao held Wen's gaze for a beat longer then let her go. She slumped to the ground, eyes vacant.
They ran.
• Corridor – 09:43 a.m.
Sirens echoed above. Scarlet strobes transformed the limestone walls into a channel of blood. They reached the elevator—an antique cage that barely fit three. Yu slammed the door, hit the button. The cage lurched downwards, cables creaking.
Halfway down the shaft, Manning felt the fracture in her wrist move; pain erupted once more, white-hot. She bit her lip, tasting blood.
"Well done," Xu Xiao said, low.
She managed a shaky laugh. "I just orphaned an algorithm."
• River Tunnel – 09:46 a.m.
The elevator opened to a concrete slipway. An RIB was idling in the dark; its outboard was muted. A figure in a balaclava beckoned them aboard. Manning stumbled as the splint scraped against the pontoon. The engine roared to life, and they shot off across the slate-gray current of the Rhône.
Behind them, the blast door to Vault 47B sealed forever. Somewhere above, Aunt Wen was screaming into the empty darkness.
Manning leaned over the side, letting freezing spray numb her face. The diamond wafer no longer existed in her pocket—only seven ghost fragments drifting across encrypted servers, waiting for a future she might never see.
Xu Xiao found her hand. "Next stop: disappearing."
She squeezed once. "And after that?"
"After that," he said, "we rebuild the sky."
The boat rounded a bend, Geneva's lights fading behind snow-capped peaks. Ahead lay nothing but the river and the long, cold road to whatever came after Phoenix.