Page 256 of Chameleon Killer

Their output had been intercepted, recorded, and repeated. Since the FBI had installed their own system as well as piggy-backed off the Network’s, it would have given them plenty of access.

The method took another minute to identify, then another. I found the intrusion only because I knew where to look after understanding what it was doing.

A local transmitter.

Close range.

It wasn't attacking the cameras individually. It was interfering with the controller long enough to substitute cached footage.

Portable.

Temporary.

And unless someone happened to be examining timestamps at the packet level, almost invisible.

Elliot had not acquired that skill overnight, which meant he’d used it before and had everything in place to penetrate the building’s security within hours of separating from Mallory and Flint.

That was useful information or would be. Later. I returned to Mallory's camera.

Live.

I hoped.

She sat before the monitor, staring at the result. Then the conference-room door behind her opened. Elliot entered.

So much for later.

Mallory didn't turn.

“You really should have stopped, Mallory.”

Her shoulders changed.

Not much.

Enough.

She knew his voice. I watched her reflection in the dark edge of the monitor.

“Interesting advice from the man who tracked me to Flint's apartment.”

Elliot closed the door.

The camera froze.

I stared at the image. Mallory at the workstation. Brewster behind her. Then nothing.

The timestamp continued advancing.

The picture did not.

“Clever,” I murmured.

I opened the audio channel. Silence. Not dead air. Manufactured room tone.

He had learned exceptionally well.

I began moving through systems. Card access. Elevators. Stairwells. Parking. Building alarms. Carter's floor.