My secure phone buzzed. I answered, my hands shaking with adrenaline and rage.

“Serena?” It was Jonas. “Police are on the way. Are you safe?”

“He got away with the coin, Jonas. Call off the cops. I can’t have this on a public blotter.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not a coin,” I said, staring at the empty cedar chest. “My father was a penetration tester for a black-ops cell. That coin is a decryption microchip molded in gold.

It’s an override key for the DoD’s legacy servers.”