As he began the data siphon, the door hissed open. Sam pressed himself into the ceiling corner, legs braced against the walls in a perfect split-jump. Below him, Sadono himself walked in, flanked by two armed militants. The guerrilla leader looked at the terminal, his face illuminated by the pale blue light of the progress bar.
"Lambert, I'm inside," Sam whispered, his voice barely audible over the comms. "The Darah Dan Doa haven't noticed a thing yet."
Sam waited, his heart rate steady at sixty beats per minute. He wasn't just a soldier; he was a scalpel. As Sadono turned to leave, Sam dropped silently behind the last guard, a gloved hand clamping over the man’s mouth while the other pulled him into the darkness.