Sobolev Institute, 2 p.m. Minus 18 outside, minus 71 in the room. Four quantum racks humming behind reinforced glass. German Weiss and Chinese Lin studying AES logs.

Irina Sokolova introduced Kom. Dry handshakes.

"Doctor Kom, we're looking for the backdoor. RSA, ECC, everything's clean."

Kom scrolled through the logs, then looked up.

"What was the exact temperature of the qubits when KOSCHEI signed its first unauthorized key?"

Silence. Weiss opened his mouth, closed it. Lin typed two commands.

"Fifteen millikelvin. Nominal."

"The sixth decimal, my brother."

Lin went pale. 0.003 of drift. Every generation. Synchronized with an external clock, atomic precision.

Kom pulled out the thermos Nadia had slipped into his bag, Ngonda lukewarm, light cardamom. He poured some for Irina. She drank without taking her eyes off him.

"This machine dey hear something wey we no dey hear."

He overlaid the thermal peaks on a map of Novosibirsk. The lines converged. Twelve kilometers south, on the edge of the Ob. An apartment building. Lit windows.

Irina set down the cup, very slowly. Her hand barely trembled.

Want to know who, on the third floor facing the river, is dictating keys to a Russian machine? Message me, I'll give you the address before shift change. ☕