To Elias, it was a key.
He double-clicked channel twelve. The programming fields opened. Frequency: . Bandwidth: Narrow. Squelch: Tight.
The screen on the radio flickered. For a heart-stopping second, the dead line on the LCD multiplied into a full grid of black. Then, it cleared.
He pressed the button, overriding the squelch. White noise. But beneath it, just at the threshold of hearing, a rhythmic pulse. Beep... pause... beep... pause. A homing signal.
He took a breath and clicked.
Elias plugged the programming cable—a relic in itself, a DB-9 serial connector that required a clunky USB adapter—into his battered laptop. The battery on the laptop had twelve minutes of life left. It would have to be enough.