The ghost at the table – Draft 03 – Chapter 17

Logan

I’m sitting in my cluttered home office, the glow of the computer screen casting long shadows across the room. My fingers are flying over the keys, faster than ever before. Then it happens. A ping that sounds like the end of the world.

“System breach detected.”

The words flicker across my monitor. The conglomerate’s systems are mine, but the triumph is short-lived. I lean back, rub my heavy eyelids. This is bigger than I thought. Panic seeps through the lines of code, a digital wildfire I can’t control.

Phones ringing off the hook. Desks rattling with the tremors of frantic keystrokes. The open floor plan becomes a pit of chaos. Executives shout orders, their faces drained of colour. Assistants scramble, papers flying like startled birds. Screens flash red warnings, numbers plummeting. It’s a financial bloodbath. Operations paralysed. They’re reeling from the blow I’ve dealt, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve gone too far.

“Robinson!” Dan barks into the phone. His voice is a lifeline in the storm. “You seeing this?”

“Yeah,” I reply, my voice steady despite the adrenaline. “It’s bad.”

“Understatement of the year, mate.” He’s running, breathing hard. “Meet me at the usual spot. We need to talk.”

“Alright, ten minutes.”

I hang up. Dan doesn’t know the half of it. He’s always been the strong one, muscles built from years of running and playing sport, unlike my unyielding bulk. But right now, he’s out there in the thick of it, and I’m here, behind a screen, causing havoc.

Across the globe, a security team snaps to attention. They’re trained by Chinese intelligence, cold and precise as surgical steel. Their professionalism is chilling. They don’t panic; they mobilize. I imagine them, suited up, ready for digital war.

“Sir, we have an incident.” The message is delivered with military crispness.

“Understood. Deploy countermeasures. Identify the breach source,” commands the team leader, a no-nonsense voice cutting through the tension.

Their expertise is legendary. They’re already on my trail, sifting through data like they were born to it. I can almost see them, piecing together my digital breadcrumbs, their eyes narrowed in concentration.

“Lockdown complete. Tracing the hacker’s signature,” one reports, voice devoid of emotion.

“Keep me updated,” the leader replies. “Failure is not an option.”

They’re good. Too good. But I’m not just some rogue IT consultant anymore. D@@Mladen saw to that. She taught me how to dance in the shadows, where to strike. I can’t let her down.

“Logan,” Dan’s voice is urgent when I meet him. “This is your work, isn’t it?”

“Maybe,” I admit, the weight of the situation pressing down on me. “Got to keep ahead of the game, right?”

“Right…” He trails off, doubt clouding his usually clear gaze.

“Listen, mate,” I say, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll get through this. Like we always do.”

Dan nods, tight-lipped. He’s always had my back, even when his own world was falling apart. Friendship could be the difference between surviving or going under. And right now, survival is all that matters—in rural Australia or anywhere else.

—

The room pulses with blue light. Screens flicker, data streams cascade. A cathedral of technology. The security team’s command centre is a fortress of silence amid the chaos outside. Monitors tower like monoliths, surveillance footage and real-time analytics dance across them. Codes scroll, windows pop up, each a battlefront in the digital war.

“Zoom in,” someone commands. Fingers fly over keyboards, a symphony of clicks. They’re scanning, probing the wound I left in their system.

“Isolate the entry point,” another demands, eyes locked on a display that bleeds numbers. Their tools are scalpels, dissecting my intrusion layer by layer. They seek patterns in my chaos, order in my anarchy.

A map of my attack unfolds on screen. They trace my digital steps, backtrack my virtual path. It’s art to them, this game of catch me if you can. They relish the hunt, respect the hunted. Maybe fear him too.

“Firewall breached here.” Pointing to a node, a nexus of my assault. “But how?” The question hangs, unanswered. My methods were orthodox, taught by a master of shadow craft. D@@Mladen’s touch, invisible yet indelible.

“Check for backdoors.” They know the dance, the hide and seek of ones and zeroes. They’re good, damn good. But are they good enough?

“Encrypted payload,” one mutters. “Clever.” I’ll take that as a compliment. Means I’m not just a ghost; I’m a wraith in their machine.

“Any leads on the hacker’s ID?” The urgency is palpable. They know time isn’t a luxury, it’s an enemy.

“Still compiling.”

They’re relentless, these sentinels of silicon. But so am I. So is she. D@@Mladen’s lessons echo in every move I make. Hit fast, hit hard, vanish.

“Let’s tighten everything up. No more surprises.” Resolve hardens their faces. They’re battening down the hatches, but the storm’s already raging inside.

“Agreed.”

“Keep digging. He’s human. He makes mistakes.”

“Will do.”

Mistakes. Yeah, I’ve made them. Haven’t we all? Dan knows that better than anyone. His marriage teeters on a knife-edge, Lily’s memory a spectre between them. Yet he’s here, beside me, loyal to a fault. That’s the rural way, isn’t it? Stick together, come hell or high water.

“Dan,” I say low, “they’ve got a beat on me. This is gonna get rough.”

“Logan, mate, whatever happens, we stick together.” His conviction is steel. “You hear me?”

“Clear as day.” And I do. Crystal clear. Friendship isn’t a cure-all, but it’s a damn solid anchor when the winds pick up.

“Good.”

I nod, ready myself. The next moves are critical. In this digital chess game, the king’s getting closer to checkmate. But I’ve still got moves to play. We both do.

“Stay sharp, mate.”

“Always.”

—

The command centre hums with tension. Screens glow, data streams like a digital river in flood. They’ve got their eyes peeled for the glitch, the slip-up, the human error that’ll lead them to me.

“Robinson,” a voice cuts through the electronic buzz. It’s her—Stephanie McBride, the cybercrime hawk. Eyes sharp as razors, mind ticking faster than our keystrokes. She’s all business, this one. Hair tied back, no-nonsense suit, she’s the embodiment of the chase.

“Sir?” I respond, feigning ignorance. Got to play it cool, like ice on the screen.

“Update.” She doesn’t waste words. Her hands are clasped behind her back, standing stiff as a board. She knows the game, every move, every countermove.

“Still tracing,” I say. My fingers dance across the keyboard, my own secret rhythm. D@@Mladen’s teachings, a silent symphony in my head.

“Details, Robinson.” Stephanie’s tone is clipped. She’s a dog with a bone, won’t let go until she’s cracked it wide open.

“Footprints,” I start. “We’re close. Patterns emerging. But this hacker… slippery.” Half-truths are still truths, aren’t they?

“Use everything we’ve got. I want this hacker yesterday.” She pivots, surveying her realm of tech and terror. The command centre’s a fortress, but every fortress has its chinks.

“Understood.” I keep tapping away, sending commands to the software that’s supposed to be hunting me down. Algorithms churn, sifting through digital debris.

“Algorithms?” Dan whispers, leaning in. His loyalty’s a beacon, unwavering.

“Top tier,” I murmur back. “They’re combing through the net, sniffing out patterns. Anything linked to our ghost in the machine.”

“Will they find you?” Concern cracks his voice.

“Maybe.” Honesty, a bitter pill. “But we’ll find ‘em first.” That’s the plan. Stay ahead, stay alive.

“Keep after it.” Stephanie’s back at my shoulder, eyes boring into the monitor. “I don’t care if you have to dissect every byte. Find that hacker.”

“Right.” My reply is automatic, robotic. Like the machines we’re up against.

“Good.” She nods once, approval fleeting. Then she’s off, back into the fray, leaving us to our screens and secrets.

Dan taps a message on his phone, hidden from view. Sarah. Even now, he’s holding things together with silent texts. Rural strength, silent suffering. He’s backbone and heart.

“Stay sharp,” I type back to him. Two can play the covert game.

“Always,” comes the immediate response.

On screen, the traces we’re following bloom into life – a map of movements, a constellation of crime. Stephanie’s right behind me, her presence a constant reminder. We’re closing in, the net drawing tight.

“Got something,” I announce to the room, heart pounding a frantic beat. A breadcrumb, a whisper of a trail.

“Show me,” Stephanie commands, and the team gathers round.

“Here,” I point to the anomaly, a slight deviation in the pattern. “Our hacker’s been busy.”

“Busy making mistakes,” Stephanie asserts with a grim smile. “Let’s go hunting.”

“Let’s,” I echo, even as my mind races. Checkmate’s looming, but the game’s not over yet. Not by a long shot.

The room’s alive with screens. Blue light washes over faces, serious and set. We’re not just a team; we’re a node in a global network, threads of intelligence stretching across continents, tying us to Tokyo, Berlin, DC.

“Interpol’s on,” I say, voice clipped. The screen flickers and faces from around the world populate our wall of monitors. Different accents, same urgency.

“Updates?” A French agent, pinched face, all business.

“Trail’s hot.” Stephanie doesn’t mince words. “We need eyes everywhere.”

“Understood.” They nod, faces grim. Information flows both ways – leads, suspicions, patterns. No time for pleasantries.

“Stay vigilant,” I add, but they’re already fading out, back to their own battles.

We turn inward again. This isn’t just about tracking; it’s about fortifying. Dan’s at a terminal, fingers flying. Lines of code scroll past – new defences being erected in real time.

“Firewalls up,” he says without looking. His back’s an iron rod, unyielding.

“Encryptions?” I ask. It’s rhetorical; I know he’s on it.

“Triple-layered.” He’s terse. Efficient. A marathon runner in a sprinter’s race.

“Good.” I scan the data streams. Each one is a potential infiltration point, each one now bristling with digital barbed wire.

“Logs are sanitized,” Stephanie interjects. “No repeats.”

“Make sure of it.” Trust is a luxury we can’t afford. Not with so much at stake.

“Always do.” She’s cool as the server room temp. Always has been.

I think of D@@Mladen, that enigma wrapped in leather. She’d appreciate this dance of defence. But thoughts like those are dangerous. Focus.

“Simulations running,” another tech reports. “No breach undetected.”

“Run them again.” Paranoia is our policy. Our creed.

“Will do.” He’s back at it, hunched over his keyboard like it’s a trench in no-man’s land.

“Dan,” I say, eyes still on my monitor. Friendship’s got no place here, but it’s there. Underneath.

“Logan?”

“Thanks.” It’s enough. It has to be.

“Anytime.” And I believe him.

We’re a fortress now. A digital bastion against the chaos of the net. And somewhere out there, our hacker moves, a ghost in the wires.

But ghosts leave traces. And we’re damn good ghost hunters.

“Keep pressing,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone. We’re close. I can feel it.

“Will do,” echoes round the room. The chase is on.

—

The room’s a hive, buzzing with tension. We’re in the thick of it, the aftermath of cyber carnage. I sit across from one employee after another. Their faces are maps of uncertainty, etched with lines of stress.

“Tell me about the emails,” I press, my voice flat and probing.

“Nothing unusual, just… normal correspondence,” an admin stammers, wringing her hands.

“Define normal.” My gaze locks onto hers, unyielding.

“Updates, reports, meeting invites…” She trails off.

“Any attachments? Unfamiliar senders?” Each detail a thread, pulling at the frayed edges of our security blanket.

“Perhaps… I don’t usually check the sender.” Her admission hangs between us, heavy.

“Start checking.” It’s not advice; it’s a command.

“Right,” she murmurs, shaken.

I move on. Time’s slipping through our fingers like sand.

“Access logs,” I demand from the next one, a tech guy with eyes that dart to the door, to freedom.

“Checked them daily… nothing out of place,” he claims, but his confidence doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Check twice. Then check again.” It’s relentless, this grind. Necessary.

“Understood,” he nods, eager to escape my scrutiny.

They all spill words, some relevant, most not. But nuggets of truth are buried in their babble. They don’t see their own importance. I do.

“Surveillance footage,” I instruct Stephanie later, secluded in the dim glow of monitors.

“Already on it.” She’s ahead, always a step before the rest.

“Patterns. Anomalies. Find them.” Our team’s good. The best. But this hacker’s a wily one.

“Looking for needles in haystacks.” She’s focused, fingers dancing across keys in a silent symphony.

“Find the needle.”

“Always do.” Confidence. I respect that.

“Dan,” I say without looking up from the screens, “you’re on tails.”

“Got it.” His reply is curt, backed by the sound of leather creaking as he shifts in his seat.

“Subtle. No shadows.” This isn’t just about catching a hacker. It’s about safeguarding lives, livelihoods.

“Like they never existed,” Dan agrees.

“Good.” Outside, the rural sprawl of Meningie feels worlds away. Here, it’s just us and the glow of the hunt.

“Anything?” I ask, not expecting much.

“Too soon,” Dan replies, already fading into the background, ready to blend in, to become another face in the crowd.

“Keep me posted.”

“Always.”

This hacker thinks they’re invisible, untouchable. But everyone leaves marks. Fingerprints on the digital world. And we’re damn good at reading them.

“Stephanie,” I call over. “Set up interviews with the rest. All of them. No one’s above suspicion.”

“Will do.” Her tone is ice, her demeanour steel.

“Thanks.” It’s terse but sincere.

“Anytime.” Her response echoes Dan’s. Teamwork – it’s what keeps us afloat in this sea of chaos.

“Keep pressing,” I mutter, more to myself than anyone else.

“Will do,” comes the chorus.

We’re hunters in the dark, seeking out the ghost that’s haunting our network. And ghosts, they think they’re clever. But against us? They don’t stand a chance.

“Keep pressing,” I repeat, and the room hums with renewed vigour.

I clench my fists. Another riddle in code taunts us from the screen—a digital sneer from our elusive nemesis. Every traced IP, a dead end; each lead, a ghost trail. The hacker’s a phantom cloaked in cyberspace shadows, and their mockery boils in my gut.

“Dammit,” I growl. “They’ve done it again.”

“Another loop?” Stephanie’s voice cuts sharp as a knife.

“Loop, feint, and vanish. They’re playing with us.” My words are terse, clipped.

“Could be a distraction,” she says, eyes never leaving her monitor.

“Or they’re just rubbing it in.” My chair scrapes the floor as I rise, muscles tensed.

Dan’s voice crackles on comms, a whisper of static in the charged air. “Anything?”

“Another false positive.” I’m pacing now, the room too small, the walls closing in.

“Keep your head, mate,” Dan urges, his tone steady. “We’ll get ‘em.”

“Time’s not a luxury we have.” Frustration bites at each word. This is personal—a breach under my watch, a direct challenge.

“Understood.” He’s calm, but I can hear the edge there too.

“Logan,” Stephanie interjects, “look at this pattern.”

I hunch over her shoulder, staring at the data web sprawled across her screens. Patterns within patterns—a labyrinthine dance of bytes and bits.

“Predictive algorithms aren’t predicting squat.” My voice is flat, factual.

“Then let’s switch up,” she suggests. “Unpredictable. Random.”

“Random,” I echo. It could work. Or it could be another plunge into the hacker’s trap-laden maze.

“Let’s do it,” I decide. “Throw chaos at chaos.”

“Mixing it up,” she affirms, fingers dancing over keys.

I watch the strings of code cascade down, a digital waterfall of possibilities. The hacker’s out there—silently watching, waiting for their moment. But we’re shifting the game, altering the board.

“Stay on it,” I command. “Any change, any hiccup in the pattern, I want to know.”

“Roger that,” she replies without looking up.

“Dan, stay shadowed. Any chatter, any whisper…”

“Got it,” he responds, voice barely above a breath. “Eyes and ears, Logan.”

“Good.” I sink back into my chair, the image of the hacker burning behind my eyelids. Invisible, yes. But even ghosts leave footprints, echoes in the ether.

“Pressure’s mounting,” I admit, though it’s to no one in particular.

“Mounts on both sides,” Stephanie points out. “They slip, we pounce.”

“Here’s to hoping they’re sweating too.” I crack a half-smile, but it doesn’t reach my eyes.

“Keep pressing,” she murmurs, mirroring my earlier resolve.

“Always,” I reply.

And so we continue, hunters and hunted in an endless nocturne. The scent of quarry faint but growing stronger with each stroke of the keyboard. The chase tightens, a coil ready to spring. We press on, relentless, driven by the unyielding desire to bring justice to the night’s silence.

“Keep pressing,” I whisper to myself once more. And the hunt goes on.

The command centre hums. My fingers dance over the keyboard, commands firing like gunshots. Monitors glow in the dim room, throwing shadows across Dan’s face. He leans forward, eyes scanning.

“Anything?” I ask.

“Quiet,” he says, jaw tight.

Too quiet. Like the world’s holding its breath.

“Stephanie, status?”

“Cross-referencing data,” she replies, gaze never leaving her screen. “Pattern analysis running.”

We’re close to something. I can feel it. Like a storm brewing on the horizon.

“Logan,” Dan’s voice cuts through the tension. “You need to see this.”

I’m at his shoulder in a heartbeat. The screen shows lines of code—harmless to most. But not to us. Not now.

“Talk to me.”

“Look here.” His finger stabs at the monitor. “Sequence anomaly. It’s subtle.”

“Too subtle for a random glitch,” Stephanie adds, joining us.

“Deliberate?” I question.

“Has to be,” Dan confirms.

“Means they’re still inside the system,” Stephanie concludes.

“Or were,” I counter. The ghost of a trail. A whisper in the digital wind.

“Wait.” Stephanie’s voice is sharp. “Backtrack that anomaly.”

Dan’s hands fly. Code reverses. A breadcrumb emerges.

“Gotcha,” he murmurs.

A username flashes briefly before disappearing—a taunt, a signature. D@@Mladen.

“Is that—” Stephanie starts.

“Her,” I finish. “It’s our hacker.”

“Ethical hacker, they say,” Dan chimes in. “Targets the corrupt.”

“Ethics won’t save her now,” I growl.

“Get Andy on this,” I tell Stephanie. “Any dirt, anything personal.”

“Already on it,” she responds, pulling out her phone.

“Good.” My mind races. We’ve got a name, a lead. This chase just got hot.

“Pull everything on D@@Mladen,” I order. “Every forum post, every known associate.”

“Digging,” Dan affirms, already typing.

“Pressure’s about to shift,” I say, feeling a smirk tug at my lips. “Let’s see how she likes being the prey.”

“Time to turn the tables,” Stephanie agrees, her eyes alight with the thrill of the hunt.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” I caution. But hope bubbles up anyway.

“Logan,” Stephanie calls out abruptly. “Message from Andy.”

“Spit it out,” I demand.

“Got a location. Adelaide. Possible hangout,” she reads from the text. “He’s onto something.”

“Adelaide,” I echo. “That’s our turf.”

“Could be a trap,” Dan warns.

“Or our only shot,” I retort.

“Decision time,” Stephanie says, looking to me.

“Pack up,” I decide. “We’re going hunting.”

“Adelaide,” Dan repeats, nodding once.

“Adelaide,” I confirm.

We move as one, a unit bound by purpose. Through the maze of desks and screens, we head for the exit. Each step takes us closer to the hacker who thought they could play us for fools.

“Ready, Logan?” Stephanie asks, her voice steady.

“Born ready,” I reply. And we step out into the fading light, the chapter closing behind us with the click of a door.

But outside, the real story waits. The story of a hunter and a hacker. And I can’t help but wonder—who’s really being hunted?