Chapter 291

Chapter 291

Margaret lifted her eyes, meeting his gaze with calm resolve. "Right now, I am the rules."

Her stare carried no aggression, yet held an undeniable force that made refusal impossible.

The tech director hesitated for several seconds before finally nodding his authorization.

Massive data logs cascaded like a waterfall across Margaret's screen. She skipped past the core code, filtering directly for the seemingly most irrelevant access records: cafeteria menu updates, janitorial schedules, team-building applications, new employee file archives...

This "junk data" generated by the company's daily operations was chaotic, trivial, and completely without technical value. The tech director stood beside her, completely baffled by what Margaret was doing. He even suspected that Margaret might be suffering from excessive mental stress from the Antarctic incident, engaging in pointless busywork.

Time ticked by. Margaret rapidly scanned line after line of data, her brain processing this seemingly unrelated information like a supercomputer. Suddenly, her finger stopped.

"This person," she pointed to a personnel transfer record on the screen. "Gary Howard, transferred from marketing to facilities three months ago, is responsible for daily security system maintenance. Pull up all his keycard access records."

Soon, dense spreadsheets appeared on the screen.

"He's very diligent," the tech director glanced over. "Works late almost every day, comes in on weekends too."

"No," Margaret shook her head, pointing to several specific records. "Look here. Saturday night at 9 PM, he swiped into the archives. Sunday at 3 AM, entered Server Room B. Last Wednesday, spent two hours in the break room."

"That... might just be a coincidence?"

"The archives store all employees' physical contracts and background investigation materials. Server Room B doesn't house core technology, but it has the most complete company organizational charts and departmental function descriptions. The break room is where information flows most freely."

Margaret's pace wasn't fast, yet it sent chills down the tech director's spine. She had connected these isolated dots into a clear line.

"He's not stealing technology," Margaret stared at Gary's name on the screen, enunciating each word. "He's conducting 'social engineering' analysis."

He wasn't some mole at all—might not even know what he was doing. He was just a manipulated pawn, through reasonable job transfers and task assignments, remotely controlled by "The Shadow" to gather all the non-technical information that comprised "Margaret New Energy Group."

From executives' decision-making habits to middle management's personal relationships, down to rank-and-file emotional dynamics.

"The Shadow's" target wasn't the "Starlink" fruit at all. They wanted the entire "Margaret New Energy Group" tree. They planned to map every root, every leaf, then, at the most unexpected moment, make it rot and collapse from within.

Meanwhile, in Antarctica, wind whipped ice crystals across faces. Richard's Blackstone Squad had found the research station half-buried in snow and ice. The station was empty, equipment covered in dust.

"Mr. Neville, it's a shell. Main unit's been removed, only power connections remain." The tech team leader's voice mixed with the wind.

Richard watched the live feed, brow furrowed. "Search thoroughly. Don't miss any anomalies."

An hour later, team members discovered a lead-wrapped USB drive in the ventilation duct cavity. After confirming it was clean, the tech leader connected it to an isolated computer.

The drive contained no viruses, only encrypted blueprint files. When the first file was decrypted, the tech leader gasped.

"Mr. Neville, you need to see this."

Richard's screen displayed the contents: Not "Starlink" materials, but something far more advanced.

Design Draft for Miniaturized Energy Stations Based on Controlled Nuclear Fusion

Brain-Computer Interface Neural Signal Compilation Model V3.0

Military-Grade Adaptive Optical Camouflage Material Molecular Formula

Each file represented groundbreaking technology. All carelessly discarded in Antarctica.

Richard understood. "The Shadow" hadn't attacked "Starlink" to destroy it. They were "fishing." They deliberately exposed vulnerabilities, luring Margaret to counterattack, testing her capabilities.

This globally watched cyber warfare was just a capability test for "The Shadow." They'd measured "Starlink's" limits, figured out Margaret's hand. This USB drive was both a boast and a warning.

Richard's satellite phone rang. Margaret calling.

"There's a mole in the company."

Richard gripped the USB drive, looking at the blueprints on screen. "I know. They want more than just 'Starlink.'"

Silence on both ends.

"What's in Antarctica?" Margaret asked.

Richard weighed the drive. "A warning. An invitation."

After hanging up, Margaret told the tech director, "Pull up Gary Howard's transfer approval chain. Every person who handled it, every signature."

Data streams rolled, revealing the command chain. The transfer required signatures from two department heads and the administrative director. Margaret's finger stopped on one name.

Joe Perry, Administrative Director.

"Have him come to my office."

Joe knocked and entered. "Ms. Kennedy, you wanted to see me?"

Margaret looked at the organizational chart on the screen. "Mr. Perry, you've been with the company almost ten years, right?"

"Nine years and eight months."

"Gary Howard. You signed off on his transfer to facilities, security maintenance."

Joe's smile stiffened slightly. "Facilities were short-staffed. He's reliable, so I approved it."

"He's very diligent, works weekends often, accessing archives and Server Room B."

"Young people with ambition are a good thing." Sweat beaded on Joe's forehead.

Margaret looked up, sliding her tablet across the desk. On screen was a photograph: a young boy standing in front of a library, smiling. In the background corner, a man in black watched the camera with cold indifference.

The color drained from Joe's face. He reached toward the screen, fingers trembling, then let his hand fall. He collapsed into the chair, lips moving soundlessly.

"He's doing well in school. Got a full scholarship last month."

Joe covered his face, shoulders shaking violently as suppressed sobs escaped. "They'll kill him... they'll kill him..."

His only son had become the sword hanging over his head. Margaret waited quietly for him to compose himself.

"I won't turn you over to the police."

Joe's head snapped up, eyes bloodshot. Margaret continued, "Won't fire you either."

Joe was completely stunned.

"You have two choices now." Margaret leaned forward. "One, keep being their mole, live in fear until the company collapses or your son gets eliminated."

Joe's body began trembling.

"Two," Margaret paused, "work with me. We'll put on a show. I guarantee we'll get your son back safely."

Joe stared at her blankly. "Why?" His voice was hoarse.

"A known vulnerability is more valuable than an unknown one." Margaret leaned back. "Right now, you're the most valuable vulnerability I have. I want to use you to feed them the 'inside information' they want to see."