The image was grainy, shot from a high angle. A warehouse. A chair. A woman tied to it, her face bruised.
She had fifteen minutes to dissect the impossible, to find the one malformed header, the one wrong flag, the one fragment of reality that didn’t fit. Because Wireshark didn’t just show her the packets. wireshark png
She began to dig. Wireshark’s dissection tools became her scalpels. She checked the packet’s timestamp—3:14:07.222. The exact millisecond she had been on a conference call with the London office, her laptop camera off, her microphone muted. The image was grainy, shot from a high angle
