Diana's fingers flew across the keyboard, her eyes narrowed at the three monitors before her. The tracker signal from the device Isabella had planted was weak but persistent, pulsing like a distant heartbeat from somewhere beneath London's east end.
"Got it," she announced, a hint of triumph in her normally measured voice. "Triangulating now."
Christina leaned over Diana's shoulder, her auburn hair falling forward as she studied the coordinates. "That's an old Ministry of Defense facility. Supposedly decommissioned in the eighties." She straightened, already reaching for her secure phone. "I'll have the response team airborne in fifteen minutes."
