The corrupt business deals

The hum of the ancient servers in the Sterling mansion’s basement was a low, guttural thrum that seemed to mirror the unease settling in Officer Miles’s gut. The air, thick with the scent of dust and something vaguely metallic, clung to him like a second skin. Officer Vegas, her usual composed demeanor frayed at the edges, was hunched over a monitor, her fingers flying across the keyboard with a frantic energy that belied her typically measured approach. The glow of the screen cast flickering shadows on her face, accentuating the tension etched around her eyes.

“Anything?” Miles asked, his voice barely a murmur in the cavernous space. He’d been watching Vegas for what felt like hours, the silence punctuated only by the rhythmic click of her keys and the distant groan of the old house settling.

Vegas let out a sharp exhale, leaning back in her chair with a weary sigh. “It’s like trying to decipher a dead language, Miles. He encrypted everything. Multiple layers. Military-grade stuff.” She ran a hand through her short, dark hair, her brow furrowed in concentration. “But I think… I think I’ve found a backdoor.”