Chapter 50
A digital breach pierced through the layers of my computer system, and I stumbled over my seat. My screens blared alert signals, illuminating the dimly lit room.
“They’re in,” I whispered, rousing Miguel. “They just entered the maze.”
I was right. They couldn’t resist meddling with the code. Either Mercier looked guilty and they didn’t trust him or they were just checking for any issues with the drone.
“You got this, Levi,” Kay chimed in from behind, his and Sylas’s faces looming over my shoulder, invading my workspace.
“Let him work, for God’s sake,” Archambault bellowed from the back of the room, causing both of them to stumble backward.
Lines of code scrolled rapidly on the main display as I meticulously monitored incoming data streams from the warfare drone. A series of blinking nodes marked the progress of the intruders, navigating through the labyrinth. Each attempted breach triggered alerts on my screen.
My cursor flickered on and off, and memories of a chess game against Patrice flooded my mind.
“Why am I always the one attacking?” the younger me had questioned.
“Because whoever attacks divulges crucial information. The point is, you should always defend your pawns by having more defenders on it so you can destroy your opponent and win in the long term, little shit,” Patrice had retorted, burning his cigar on my skin as a punctuation mark to his lesson.
Patrice was right.
Only a monster could beat another monster.
“Miguel, stir up some chaos and throw them off balance. Craft a false lead, a decoy, or whatever that’ll make them question every move they make,” I ordered him, knowing that he had a penchant for video games.
I initiated data collection protocols to identify the Los Calaveras’s digital footprint: patterns, preferred attack vectors, and the secrets of their hacking tools to gather maximum information on them while their exact location was being transferred.
Each failure and maneuver on their part contributed to building a profile, much like the strategic moves by the textbook of a chess game.
“What are you doing?” Archambault had joined my “ducklings” as he called them behind me.
“You want water, sir?” Kay asked, promptly shut down by Archambault’s narrowed eyes.
“He’s assigning each digital signature to each intruder,” one of his cybersecurity guard dogs replied. “He’s sorting information into files.”
“How is it possible?” That came from Cillian.
“By running a syntax profiling,” I answered, my fingers dancing over the keyboard, my heart a steady rhythm. “Their coding styles will betray more than technical skills.”
Halting the variations in syntax, from indentation preferences to specific programming constructs, the code on the screen transformed into a digital portrait of each intruder’s individual coding habits. Behavioral biometrics within the maze analyzed the intruders’ mouse movements and typing dynamics. Packet-sniffing data manifested on a secondary screen, illustrating the nuances of each keystroke—one using a Spanish ?, the other maneuvering an AZERTY keyboard, likely French.
“They’re using a Spanish and French keyboard,” I deduced. “They’re going to find something wrong soon, so we have to be prepared. Keep distracting them, okay?”
I ushered Miguel, his gaze fixed on the screen, teetering on the verge of passing out, while two of Archambault’s guard dogs watched him from behind in case he failed.
For a moment, the only sound was the hum of servers and the tapping of keys, when another notification breached through the air.
“Boss, they’re trying to reverse-engineer the code. If they succeed, they’ll find—”
“I know,” I interjected, cutting through Miguel’s breaking voice with a composed smile.
My fingers tapped over the keyboard in a frenzied symphony, each keystroke a calculated strike. One wrong move, and it’d end for either me or Los Calaveras. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead as I orchestrated a digital defense, my eyes darting across the screen.
“Is it ready?” Archambault’s tense voice broke through . So impatient.
I gritted my teeth. “Almost.”
In the digital maze, the intruders struggled, the walls closing in on them. I blocked each attempt at rewriting my code and delved into their networks, analyzing their traffic—from computers to phones—slowly mapping out potential hideouts and narrowing down the geographic scope.
I dissected encrypted packets, identifying patterns, packet sizes, and communication frequencies to identify the types of data being exchanged and potential communication protocols.
“I’m transferring you their location,” I said, sending the coordinates to Sylas’s phone.
Kay’s voice echoed from behind, “Gibraltar. They’re here.”
“We got them!” Archambault roared and let out a thin laugh, departing from behind me. “I’m going to catch those damn bastards!”
But it wasn’t over. Not yet.
“Take that, you bastard!” Miguel erupted in a scream, squeezing the mouse. “I just locked that bastard in.”
I raised an eyebrow; I didn’t know that kid had it in him.
I focused back on the task, breaking their encryption. My virus was corrupting each of their devices connected to their network.
“Do you hear me? Send the signals!” Sylas’s father roared over the phone. “Descend on them, now!”
Each digital fingerprint became a puzzle piece in my hands, fitting seamlessly into the mosaic of existing databases and open-source intelligence. The screen illuminated with interconnected threads of information, revealing the real-world identities of the intruders.
Encrypted messages, command sequences, and even casual exchanges between members were extracted and decrypted. These snippets provided a glimpse into the motives, hierarchies, and internal dynamics of the group.
My lips turned into a scowl. “Frederic, I got them.”
I forwarded the files on each of the leading members of the group. They were done for. The intruders were ensnared in the digital labyrinth and now that their identities had been revealed, it was just a matter of hours before catching them.
“The Tacticians are in the place!” Kay cheered, but the screams of joy seemed distant as I analyzed the screen.
A message from one of their coders materialized on my screen.
Intruder: Who are u?
I couldn’t resist a smirk.
Me: Checkmate.
I ended the system.
“I can’t believe it worked,” Sylas whispered.
Their only mistake? Dealing with Mercier. I swiveled my chair around to face the room. Archambault’s hand rested on his son’s shoulder while he barked orders into his phone, orchestrating the interception of Los Calaveras. Cillian was already dialing the news channel, ready to spread the word. Miguel, on the other hand, was throwing punches at the air, lost in his own victory dance.
I did it.
“Checkmate, that’s a pretty badass hacker name,” Miguel said.
“I’m proud of you, man,” Kay chimed in, giving me an awkward shoulder squeeze that made my skin crawl. He always had to push it. Then he hurried over to Sylas, planting a kiss on his mouth. “And I’m proud of you too. You’re a leader who got us all in the same room without murdering each other.”
Oblivious to what had happened, Frederic offered me his hand to shake. “Thank you.”
I shook it, then watched as Archambault shook Kay’s hand next. Everyone was winning today.
With a deep exhale, I sauntered out of the room, away from that sickening happiness.
I finally did something right.
I wasn’t fucking powerless.
I slammed my head against the wall, and I stilled the trembling of my right fingers with my left hand. A twisted chuckle escaped my lips. I could feel the rush of true power coursing through my veins, and I had no intention of letting it slip away.
I knew exactly what to do with my life.
The blackness that obscured my future had been removed.
I’d become the biggest bully of them all.
I’d dismantle the monsters piece by piece because only a monster could truly defeat another.