The ghost at the table – Draft 03 – Chapter 6

Logan

The screen’s glow was the only light in the room. I remained seated, a large figure hunched over familiar keys. Lily’s face, once vibrant and full of life, haunted every pixel. They said it was an accident—wrong place, wrong time. Bullshit. Justice seemed like a far-off dream, something the cops in their comfy chairs wouldn’t bring about.

I typed faster, the clicks merging into a relentless staccato. The dark web wasn’t new to me. Moonbeam, Chartreuse, Dragon – names from a past I never quite left behind. They were my ticket into the underbelly of cybercrime. Old contacts, old friends. Friendship meant survival here. It meant not facing the abyss alone.

“Logan,” Lily’s voice whispered through memory, “be careful.”

I shook my head. Careful wouldn’t cut it, not this time. My fingers flew across the keyboard, dancing a dance of digital vengeance. Code was my weapon; the internet, my battleground. Researching, learning—the ins and outs of a world where the law was just another string of code you could bend, break, or bypass.

“Justice for you, Lil,” I muttered, my eyes scanning lines of text that most wouldn’t understand. Information was power, and I was hungry for it. The dark web beckoned with open arms, a siren call to the part of me that hungered for retribution. Moonbeam would know the latest exploits, Chartreuse the places to poke, Dragon the firewalls worth burning through.

“Remember, mate, no trace,” Dragon’s words echoed from an old conversation. Cover your tracks, always. Lily deserved that much—a ghost in the machine fighting for her.

“Let’s see how they handle a bit of chaos,” I said to the silence. Lily’s smile flickered in my mind’s eye, fuelling my resolve. This was for her. For justice. With each keystroke, I stepped further into the shadows, ready to strike back at a world that had taken everything from me.

The cursor blinked. A mocking beacon in the sea of black. My fingers were ready, a pianist before his debut concerto. The night was mine.

Adelaide’s digital walls looked sturdy to the untrained eye. Not to me. I found cracks, crevices where bytes feared to tread. Small businesses first. Mum and Dad shops with dreams bigger than their firewalls. Easy. Too easy.

“First strike,” I whispered. My code sliced through the first barrier like a hot knife through butter. A florist’s website. Innocent. Unprotected. A gateway to flex my digital muscles, to test theories. Their security was a joke, but then again, so was the justice that failed Lily.

“Sorry, folks.” No personal grudge. Collateral damage on the way to something bigger. Fingerprints wiped clean with each keystroke. I was a ghost, an echo of the pain that fuelled me.

I moved on. A local bakery next. They crumbled under my assault. Passwords fell like dominoes. Emails, customer data, all laid bare. I was the tempest, they were the chaff—dispersed in the cyber wind.

“Child’s play,” I scoffed, scanning screens of triumph. Each victory sharpened my resolve, honed my craft. I could almost hear Lily’s laugh, see her nod of approval. She believed in righting wrongs. So did I.

“Onto the next.” A sporting goods store—third on my list. Their security was a patchwork quilt of outdated software and misplaced trust. I slipped in unnoticed, a shadow amongst bytes. Inventory lists, financial records—I left a mess in my wake.

“Better,” I admitted. Each infiltration was smoother, sleeker. My past life in the RAAF had taught me precision, efficiency. But this was different. This was personal.

“Too easy,” I repeated. My confidence surged. These small-time gigs were just the beginning. Adelaide would know my name. Well, not my name. They’d know fear, uncertainty. They’d know the cost of complacency.

“Justice for you, Lil,” I said again. The screen glowed, the only witness to my crusade. I was doing what the law couldn’t, or wouldn’t. I was balancing scales, one hack at a time. Lily’s tragedy wouldn’t be in vain.

“Big fish next.” The words were a promise. To Lily. To myself. The night stretched on, my campaign with it. Each target brought me closer to the justice she deserved. And I wouldn’t stop—not until I’d turned Adelaide inside out.

Networks crumbled under my fingers. Kids’ stuff. Their firewalls were relics, and I danced around their digital tripwires with a hacker’s grace. Each keystroke was a silent jab at their ignorance. Every business in Adelaide seemed to be asleep at the wheel. No encryption worth mentioning. No security protocols that posed any challenge.

“Amateurs,” I muttered. My screen bathed the room in a cold glow, the only light in the dark expanse of my Meningie home. I wondered how they’d lasted this long, ripe for picking and too blind to see it coming.

The cursor blinked in rhythm with my heartbeat. Fast. Eager. Another entry point found, another system laid bare before me. I could almost taste the adrenaline, bittersweet as it was. Lily’s memory echoed in each click, each command I entered. This was for her. All of it.

I remembered Chartreuse’s words from the shadowy forums, “The net is vast.” She wasn’t wrong. The more I dove into these businesses’ systems, the clearer I saw the web of their incompetence. It was as if they were inviting me in. I accepted every invitation.

“Pathetic,” I scoffed, watching another set of customer data spill onto my screen. I thought back to the RAAF, to the discipline, the rigor. Nothing like the laxity here. Lily would have been appalled at their carelessness.

“Step up your game, Logan,” I told myself. Small fish were one thing, but Adelaide had bigger prey. I needed to match them, exceed them. With each successful hack, my confidence soared. I was becoming something else, someone else. A force to be reckoned with.

“Keep going,” I urged myself. My fingers flew across the keyboard, lightning-fast, just as the RAAF had drilled into me. But this wasn’t for some officer’s eyes only—this was personal. This was vigilante justice through fibre optics and Wi-Fi waves.

“Next target,” I said, voice barely above a whisper. And there it was, another weak system. I imagined the business owners, clueless to the war waged on their livelihoods. Did they even understand the world they were competing in?

“Gotcha.” A grin spread across my face. The thrill never got old. Each victory stoked the fire inside me, pushed me further into the depths of the dark web. There, amidst the anonymity and chaos, I honed my skills. I learned new tricks, new ways to cloak my presence, to strike unseen.

“Can’t stop now,” I breathed out. The night pressed on, and with it, my resolve hardened. I was changing the game, one hack at a time. For justice. For Lily. For the rush that came with playing God in a world unprepared for the likes of me.

“More,” I demanded of myself. And the internet, vast and wild, whispered back, “Yes.”

I erase my footprints. Digital breadcrumbs scattered to the winds. Code rewritten, logs scrubbed clean. Ghost in the machine, that’s me. They won’t find Logan. Not here, not anywhere.

The screen’s glow, a beacon in the dark room. Adelaide sleeps; I don’t. My fingers work methodically. A dance of deception. Each step, calculated. Methodical. Routines run, every trace annihilated.

“Clear,” I mutter. The word hangs in the still air. Assurance. Safety. For now.

Numbers on the screen dwindle. Accounts bleed out silently. My handiwork. Their loss, Lily’s vengeance. She whispers from beyond, her voice in the hum of servers and routers. I listen. I act.

“Sorry, mates,” I say. No pity in my voice. Just facts. Cold, hard facts. Businesses crumble. I watch. Detached. Necessary. It’s justice—my brand of it. Makeshift and raw.

“Should’ve been prepared,” I tell the empty room. They should’ve seen it coming. Should’ve been ready. Like I wasn’t. Like Lily wasn’t.

“Never again.” The words are steel. Resolve. She didn’t deserve it. They don’t either. But life’s not about what you deserve.

“More,” I whisper. The night stretches out. Long and endless. Full of targets. Full of opportunities.

Lily’s face in my head. My compass. My cause. We’re in this together. Her memory. My hands. One mission.

“Justice.” That’s all there is. Justice and the next hit. And I’m just getting started.

The cursor blinks. A challenge. I smirk. The game’s changed. Small fish, small fry. Boredom looms. Not my style. Time to level up.

“Big boys,” I mutter. Adelaide’s corporate giants. Suit and ties with Swiss cheese firewalls. Juicy targets. Higher stakes. My fingers itch. Ready.

“Let’s dance.”

I pull up lists. Company profiles. Financial reports. They’re rich. Complacent. Sloppy. Perfect. Lily’s face flickers on the second monitor. Nods. Go time.

“Next.”

Hours pass. Night wanes. Businesses won’t know what hit ‘em come morning. But I do. And Lily does.

“Enough for tonight.”

I shut down. Reluctant. Satisfied. But she’s watching. Not Lily. Someone else.

******

Stephanie McBride stares at the screen. Patterns emerge. Chaos with a rhythm. Signs of a pro.

“Gotcha,” she breathes. Trail of digital breadcrumbs. Leads to… nowhere. Clever bastard. She respects that. But not enough to stop.

“Who are you?”

She digs deeper. Adelaide’s underbelly. Cyber shadows. Her world now.

“Let’s see how good you really are.”

Notes scribbled. Coffee cold. Eyes weary but determined. Stephanie’s onto something. Or someone.

“Logan,” she whispers. Name without a face. Yet.

“Game on, Stephanie.” I can almost hear her thoughts. We’re connected by wires and waves. Cyber hunters in the night.

“Let’s see who’s prey.”