The ghost at the table – Draft 03 – Chapter 16

Stephanie

The crates splintered around me. Each shot, a death knell. My heart was a jackhammer against my ribs, each thud echoing the danger I was in. They said Adelaide was quiet, peaceful. But here I was, dodging bullets like a character out of a gangster flick.

I pressed myself flat against the cold, rough wood, my breath ragged. Survival instincts kicked in; I needed an out. The room spun with chaos, screams punctuated by gunfire. This wasn’t just cybercrime – it was war. And here I was again, another crime gang, another secretive warehouse. This one slap bang in the middle of residential housing.

“Think, Stephanie, think,” I muttered under my breath. My head swivelled, eyes darting for a gap, a door, anything. The scent of gunpowder stung my nostrils, a stark reminder that this was no virtual threat. That panic that clawed at my insides was real, as real as the lead flying through the air.

The warehouse was a maze, a tomb if I didn’t move fast. Then, between shots, there it was—a sliver of hope. An exit sign flickered above a door on the far side, its green glow cutting through the smoke like a beacon. It was now or never.

“Move fast, stay low,” Andy’s voice echoed in my mind. His words were a lifeline, a mantra. Andy, with his dogged pursuit of truth, would’ve dived into hell for a friend. And right now, he was my guiding star through this bullet-ridden night.

I counted the seconds between the bursts of gunfire. Three… two… one… With every fibre of my being screaming for me to stay put, I pushed off from the crates and made a run for it. My legs pumped, heart slamming, each step a silent prayer.

“Come on, Stephanie,” I urged myself, “for Andy, for the truth.”

Bullets sang past, too close for comfort. But I couldn’t stop. Couldn’t think about anything but the door, the escape, the chance to expose the rot festering in the shadows of this city.

This wasn’t just about survival anymore. This was about friendship, about justice. And as I ducked behind another crate, closer to freedom, I knew I’d do whatever it took to bring these criminals down. For Adelaide, for Andy, for all of us.

The window taunted me from above—small, grimy, barely a foot in diameter. It was a long shot, but so was making it out of here alive. I gauged the distance, my mind racing as fast as my pulse. That tiny circle of light was hope, a crack in the fortress these thugs called home. I’m 167cm tall, trim in size, but I was unsure if I’d fit through the window. Let alone reach it.

“Twenty feet,” I muttered. “Vertical challenge.” My eyes darted around the warehouse—a stack of pallets, a forklift, a chain hanging from the ceiling. A plan snapped together like pieces of a puzzle. The danger was real, but the alternative was a bullet with my name on it.

“Let’s do this,” I whispered to myself, a silent pep talk amidst the chaos. Andy’s courage fuelled mine. He’d be charging ahead; so would I.

I braced, ready. The gunfire lulled momentarily, a deceptive peace. My muscles tensed, coiled springs waiting to release. Then I was off, running hard, fast. Boots pounded on concrete. Each stride ate up the space between me and that sliver of salvation.

“Almost there…” I gasped, dodging left as another round of shots erupted, chipping away at the concrete where I’d just been. Bullets hissed, angry bees buzzing too close. I ducked instinctively, felt the heat as one grazed my shoulder.

“Keep moving!” The shout was all adrenaline, all fight. It echoed off the walls, a battle cry against the dark that sought to swallow me whole.

The window loomed closer, a beacon in the night. I was Stephanie McBride, cybercrime fighter, not some damsel in distress. For Andy, for Adelaide, I wouldn’t let this be the end.

The window was close now. My fingers stretched, clawing the air. I leapt, muscles screaming. Fingertips caught the ledge. Cold metal bit into my skin. I clung on, desperate, refusing to let go.

“Come on,” I grunted.

I hauled myself up. Every pull a battle. Every inch gained a victory. My body obeyed, driven by fear and will. It was me or them. Survival was the prize.

Arms shaking, I made it. The ledge was narrow, unforgiving. My grip was iron, though. I wouldn’t fall. Not today.

“Almost there…” I whispered.

Then I was through. Pain flared in my side as I hit the ground. A sharp stab. I bit back a cry. Couldn’t make a noise. Had to be silent. Silent as the shadows that cloaked me now.

“Keep moving,” I told myself, voice a harsh whisper.

I touched my side. Warmth. Blood. But I couldn’t stop. There was work to do. For Andy. For Adelaide. This was bigger than pain, bigger than me.

“Stephanie McBride doesn’t quit,” I breathed into the darkness.

Pain thrashed in my side, a relentless reminder of the leap. It didn’t matter. Pain was temporary; truth was eternal. I pressed on, footfalls soft against the concrete, each step a silent oath to unearth what festered in this place.

The warehouse stretched out, a labyrinth of shadows. Dim bulbs hung from the ceiling, their feeble glow barely piercing the gloom. Eyes wide, I scanned the path ahead, every sense sharpened to a razor’s edge. This was no time for hesitation – it was do or die, and I, Stephanie McBride, wasn’t about to meet her maker in some forsaken Adelaide warehouse.

My ears tuned to the building’s hushed murmurs. A distant clank echoed somewhere behind me – I froze, heart hammering against my ribs. Silence cloaked me again. Just the old building settling, or something more sinister? No way to tell. But Andy was counting on me. Couldn’t let him down. Not now.

“Keep your head, Steph,” I muttered under my breath.

I crept onward, the pain a dull roar in my gut. The secrets, the lies this place held – they were the target. My mission. I’d left home for this, dragged my husband thousands of miles for the promise of making a difference. And here, amid the dust and danger, I’d find my answers.

Every creak of the aged floorboards, every whisper of the night wind through unseen cracks, kept me taut as a bowstring. They wouldn’t catch me unaware. Friends back home, Andy in the fray—our bond was my armour. My resolve.

This was it. Truth lay cloaked in darkness, but I’d drag it into the light, kicking and screaming if need be. For justice. For friendship. For Adelaide.

A door cracked open. Faint glow inside. Server room. My heart skipped a beat. Jackpot.

“Alright,” I whispered, inching closer. The whir of machines filled the air—music to my ears. This had to be it. The cybercrime hub.

Eyes swept over rows upon rows of servers. Blinking lights cast eerie shadows, dancing on the walls like spectres of the truth hidden within their circuits. This was the pulse of the beast I’d been chasing.

“Focus, Stephanie.” The voice in my head was Andy’s this time. Always the calm in the storm.

Pulled out my phone. Camera on. Shutter clicks broke the silence. Evidence in pixels and data. Can’t argue with hard proof.

“Come on, come on…” Murmured prayers under my breath as I connected the portable drive. Transfer started. Numbers climbed. 10%… 30%… 50%.

Heartbeat matched the rhythm of progress. Couldn’t help but think of home. Of Brett waiting, unaware of the danger lurking in these shadows. But this was for us too. For our future, safe from the threats that hid in ones and zeroes.

“Almost there,” I urged.

The drive blinked. 100%. Snatched it. Safeguarded it in my jacket pocket. Evidence against them. Armor for me.

“Time to blow this popsicle stand.” With evidence in hand, I was one step closer to blowing the lid off their game.

“Let’s do it, for Adelaide,” I muttered, ready to take on whatever came next.

I freeze. Footsteps. Not echoes of my own, but a presence, alive and close. My heart doesn’t just pound; it’s a sledgehammer against my ribs, threatening to break free. I’m not alone. All the air in the room feels sucked out, yet my chest tightens, greedily hoarding every last breath as if it could be my last.

“Easy, Stephanie,” I whisper to myself, Andy’s usual reassurances absent in the cold hum of technology.

Behind a row of servers I go, quick and low. They’re tall, ominous monoliths in this cyber sanctuary. My fingers graze metal, and the slight warmth is a stark contrast to the chill wrapping itself around my spine. The footsteps draw closer, unhurried, confident—their rhythm a countdown to my discovery.

“Stay sharp,” I command internally, every training session, every late-night research binge with Andy cascading through my memory, fortifying my resolve.

“Survive,” I tell myself. That’s the goal. To get out, to bring to light the truth festering in this digital den of thieves. For Adelaide. For justice. No turning back now.

“Wait, think.” There’s got to be a way out. A plan. Andy would have one. He’d say use your smarts, Steph. So I listen hard, trying to gauge how many are coming, how much time I’ve got.

“Focus.” The word cuts through the panic. The echo of footsteps becomes clearer, more pronounced. It’s now or never.

“Survival. Friendship. Truth.” Each word is a step towards courage. Can’t let fear win. Won’t let it. Andy’s counting on me, and I on him.

“Ready?” I ask myself. Because ready or not, here they come.

A crack of light. A sliver of hope. I press my eye to it, squinting. Four figures slip into view—Chinese guys, black suits that look like they’ve seen better days. Hands shuffle wads of cash. The sound crisp, businesslike. Bags. White powder mountains nestled in black canvas skirts. This isn’t just cybercrime. It’s the whole damn Syndicate.

“Trouble,” I mutter under my breath.

I edge back, quiet as a ghost. My mind races faster than my heart, and that’s saying something. There has to be another exit. A back door, a hidden passage—something. Andy’s words, always the journalist: “There’s always another angle, Steph.” Right now, I need an angle out of this room.

“Keep calm,” I remind myself, my voice a whisper lost in the cavernous space. There’s no playbook for this. No cybersecurity drill prepped me for armed drug dealers.

“Think, Stephanie, think.” My husband’s face flashes before my eyes, his smile from our last FaceTime call. I made a promise when I took this gig. To stay safe. I intend to keep it.

“Move,” my mind commands. My body obeys. Silent steps. Keep low. The air feels heavy with danger and data—the currency of the new age. And here I am, caught in the crossfire.

“Friendship,” I ponder momentarily, the strength it gives, the courage it bestows. Andy, you better have my back after this.

“Survive,” I repeat like a mantra. For him. For me. For the truth waiting impatiently to be told.

My gaze scans the shadows, frantic. Dust swirls. The air’s thick with tension and bytes of data I can’t see but feel all around me. Then, there it is—a sliver of hope. A ventilation shaft, high up near the ceiling. An escape route, maybe. It has to be.

“Move now, Steph,” I urge myself. My muscles coil like springs. And then, I’m in motion.

I scale a rack of electronics, the metal groaning under my weight. Don’t look down. Focus. Each rung I climb brings me closer to the shaft. My hands wrap around the cold rim of the opening. It’s narrow, unwelcoming, but it doesn’t matter. It’s a way out.

“Come on,” I whisper, as if coaxing the shaft to widen. I heave myself up, the metal edges biting into my skin. I push and squeeze through the opening, feeling every inch of its tight embrace. This isn’t what I trained for back in Adelaide. But cybercrime never plays by the rules.

Inside the shaft, it’s pitch black. I pull out my phone for light, the screen’s glow weak against the dark. The dust makes me want to cough, but I hold it in. Can’t make a sound. Not now.

“Keep moving, Stephanie.” My voice is barely audible above the beat of my heart. I crawl on hands and knees, the shaft’s innards rough against my palms. Ahead, only darkness. Behind, danger. No choice but to go forward.

“Survival,” I remind myself. That’s the goal. Get out. Get to Andy. Get the story told. My thoughts circle back to my husband. To his smile that’s my anchor. I can’t let him down.

“Stay low. Stay silent.” Advice from a friend echoes in my mind. Andy’s voice. His stories of rural Australia’s vastness, where friendship means a lifeline in the wild expanse. Here, in this cramped tunnel, I cling to that idea. Friendship will see me through.

“Almost there,” I tell myself, though I don’t know where ‘there’ is. All I know is I keep crawling through the suffocating darkness. For justice. For friendship. For life.

The metal grate clatters aside, cold night air rushes in. I heave myself out of the shaft, lungs burning. My hands grip the roof’s edge, digging into my skin. Freedom. Fresh air. I collapse onto the rooftop, chest heaving, eyes skyward. Stars gaze back, indifferent to the chaos below.

“Easy, Steph,” I mutter. The world spins for a second, then steadies. This isn’t just about cybercrime anymore. It’s bigger. Messier. Danger lurks in the shadows, and now it knows my name.

I gather my wits, slow my breath. Mind whirls. Data theft is one thing; what lies beneath is another beast entirely. Drugs. Guns. Lives at stake. And me, in the middle, with files that could damn or save. No simple hack job, this.

“Can’t stay here,” I say to the void. The warehouse—a Pandora’s Box in concrete and steel—sleeps beneath me. What started in Adelaide has dragged me deep into its belly. And Andy? He’ll want to know. Needs to know. But that’s later. Now, it’s about getting clear. Getting safe.

I rise on shaky legs. A shiver runs down my spine, not from the cold. It’s fear. Realization. This isn’t a game. People like those men don’t play fair. They don’t lose. I’ve stepped into their ring now.

“Think, Stephanie.” Dad’s voice echoes in my head. He taught me to be strong. Resourceful. Out here, it’s more than code and keystrokes—it’s survival. I can almost hear him, “Use your head, kiddo.”

My eyes scan the horizon. Lights twinkle in the distance—Adelaide, where life continues unaware. Where my husband waits, worried, maybe. Can’t let him down. Can’t let Andy down. Friendship is everything out here. It’s what keeps you alive. Keeps you human.

“Move,” I command myself. Feet shuffle across the gritty surface. Every step is purpose. Every breath a vow. I won’t let these criminals win. Won’t let this darkness swallow what I believe in.

I edge toward the roof access door, cautious. Stealth is my ally. The night cloaks me, and I embrace its cover. I’m a shadow now, moving against other shadows. But this shadow fights back. For truth. For justice.

“Stephanie McBride doesn’t run from a fight,” I whisper. Not when friends count on her. Not when there’s wrong to right. Cybercrime led me here, but courage will lead me home.

I swipe at the phone. Fingers slick. Heart still a drumbeat in my chest. Screen’s glow cuts through the dark. Andy’s name, a beacon. I press call.

“Steph?” His voice is tinny through the speaker.

“Got something big,” I say. Keep it terse. Can’t risk being overheard. “Need to meet.”

“Trouble?” Andy’s words come quick, clipped.

“More than we thought.” I glance back at the warehouse. Shadows loom like threats. The night air tastes of danger.

“Where?”

“Safe spot. I’ll text the place.” No time for details. Not now.

“Be careful, Steph.”

“Always am.” But caution feels thin. Like ice over deep water.

I end the call. Eyes search the darkness. There’s more to this story. More than bytes and code. Flesh and blood crimes. They won’t go down without a scrabble.

I pocket the phone. Time to move. Back to reality. To fight this thing proper.

Gravel crunches beneath my boots. Each step resolute. This isn’t just about a job anymore. It’s about justice. About not letting the bad bleed into the good.

The car waits, silent. A shadow amidst shadows. I slide inside. Metal cool against my skin. Keys turn. Engine hums. Headlights pierce the night.

Adelaide’s lights flicker in the rearview. It’s personal now. These thugs, they don’t know who they’re dealing with. Don’t know Adelaide. Don’t know me.

Andy’s message beeps in. Coordinates to our rendezvous. I tap the pedal. Car moves forward. Gravel to bitumen.

“Let’s do this,” I mutter to myself. For Andy. For all of us holding the line. Against the darkness. Against the silence.

We’ll shine a light. We’ll make noise. And we’ll make them pay.