Bishop dragged his body across the massive marble foyer at Omnivox Technologies. Surrounded by twenty-foot, floor–to–ceiling glass, and furnishings that would make Donald Trump proud, this place was just as foreign as the airport at Donetsk, Ukraine he just left. Only here, he didn’t have people shooting at him.
The one bright spot in the middle of this opulence was the confident blonde, walking straight for him. About his same height, with a slender frame she could’ve been an athlete or a model or both.
And as she looked past him, He couldn’t resist the urge to speak to her as she neared.
“Can you tell me where Data Command is?”