“Now the tricky part,” Tommo said, sweating. “Overlaying the fake timestamp. McCann’s real security system glitched for exactly four seconds. So we inject a continuous, fake Unix epoch.”
The screen flickered. The file appeared: faked_evidence.mp4 . They played it. Seven grainy angles, stitched seamlessly, with a clean, unblinking digital clock in the corner showing McCann’s goons loading barrels into a Transit van.
“Point zero one eight percent overhead,” Tommo whispered reverently. “We are ghosts.”