"Luther, help me check under what identity this person entered Istanbul."
To confirm whether Owen was the one, it was simple—just investigate the reason for his visit to Istanbul.
"OK, hang on… Hm, his name is Matt Damon, from California, USA…"
"It's him. Track his movements immediately. He's definitely the one who took the plutonium."
Ethan spoke with certainty. Istanbul was a world-renowned tourist city and the capital of Turkey, naturally attracting many foreigners. Owen visiting as a tourist was plausible, but the fact that he used a fake name meant he was here on a mission. Ethan was 90% sure the one who stole the plutonium was him. He had no concrete reason for this judgment—just intuition. And Ethan had always trusted his instincts.
"Oh Ethan, this is bad. I just found out he bought a flight to Azerbaijan—departing in… ten minutes…"
Luther said hurriedly. This meant Owen was about to leave Istanbul and soon even Turkey. Once the plane took off, recovering the plutonium would become significantly harder—not to mention Makarov had only given them 48 hours.
"What now?" William looked to Ethan. Ethan frowned. "No… something's off."
As the others turned to him, Ethan voiced his doubt.
"If he's carrying the plutonium, there's no way he'd board a plane. Turkey's airport security isn't for show. Could he have stashed it somewhere? I don't think so. That guy's real name is Steve Owen—an agent from CTU in Los Angeles." (Ethan didn't know Owen had been transferred to CTU headquarters in Washington.) "He's probably here for the same reason we are. Remember the identity he disguised himself as? That man was Pavlovich, a former Soviet nuclear expert. The CIA has a thick file on him. It's very likely that CTU got a lead through Pavlovich and followed the trail—just happened to clash with us…"
Ethan Hunt truly lived up to his reputation as a veteran agent. With just a brief analysis, he'd basically reconstructed the truth of the situation. Owen hadn't expected his misdirection to be so easily seen through.
"Luther, check Istanbul's train stations, long-distance bus terminals, and all exit checkpoints—look at their surveillance footage. I bet he left Istanbul right after getting the plutonium…"
"Got it, boss. I'll try, but you know how lousy Turkey's surveillance systems are. Let's hope the train and bus stations installed enough cameras…"
Luther tapped rapidly on the keyboard, using a series of botnets to jump through compromised nodes and begin penetrating Istanbul's municipal transportation control system.
Top-tier hackers had their own custom software. Luther's programs exploited vulnerabilities to bypass firewalls and infiltrate surveillance systems. When he gained administrator access, not even an alarm was triggered.
With full access, Luther could do as he pleased. First, he uploaded his facial recognition program, then began comparing video footage from the past hour.
Don't be fooled—an hour of footage was enormous. A single terminal couldn't handle the load.
Luther's comparison program was highly intelligent and deployed in a distributed architecture. His primary bots and all the secondary bots they controlled would each contribute a portion of their resources to the comparison.
Dozens of windows flashed on-screen as the system scanned camera footage, doing a fuzzy match of Owen's facial features. One face after another appeared, the system analyzing and comparing them: no match, discard… no match, discard…
Thousands of identical processes were running across various bots. Soon, one of the windows began to blink.
Luther brought it up—Owen appeared in the frame. A red flashing icon read "Match."
"Target's at the train station…"
Luther glanced at the timestamp and shouted. The video showed Owen holding a ticket and passing through the checkpoint. Compared to air travel, trains were far safer—slower, yes, but there was no security check, and tickets didn't require real-name registration. It was the go-to escape method.
"Find out which train he boarded—I need his destination…"
Ethan issued a new order. Luther's fingers danced across the keyboard as if possessed.
"Got it. He's headed to Belgrade, Serbia…"
The footage paused on a frame of Owen boarding the train. His profile was visible, along with the train number.
"We'll head out now. Luther, keep monitoring. Once the tracker activates, send me the location. If he gets off early, tell me immediately. And once we leave, switch locations—you never know if Makarov might trace you. Better safe than sorry…"
Ethan grabbed William, and the two of them rushed off. Whether Benji would survive depended on whether they could retrieve the plutonium from Owen. They had to race against time.
Watching them leave, Luther took Ethan's warning seriously and began relocating. Even though the IMF's safe house was independent of the CIA and regular CIA personnel had no access to its records, it was best to stay cautious.
Roughly ten hours later, Owen's train had already entered Serbian territory. Though no major events had occurred along the way, it had hardly been peaceful. Owen carried the plutonium case with him wherever he went, and several people had already taken notice.
Europe was a paradise for pickpockets, and Owen's protective attitude toward the case quickly drew attention from the thieves.
Owen wasn't a professional anti-theft cop, but his ability to read people made it clear—at least three groups in the carriage were no ordinary passengers.
This anomaly kept Owen on high alert, and he had his SEAL training to thank for that. During Hell Week, they were pushed beyond exhaustion, forced to stay awake no matter how tired or sleepy. The resulting willpower and resilience now served him well.
Owen was already exhausted—after a full day of tension—but he hadn't shut his eyes once on the trip.
Train attendants and several "kind strangers" repeatedly suggested he place his case on the luggage rack. Owen ignored them. He didn't drink, didn't eat, and even brought the case with him to the restroom—giving them no opening.
When they saw Owen wasn't falling for it, one group finally ran out of patience. As the train passed through a tunnel and plunged into darkness, they tried to make a move—only to be beaten down by Owen like dogs eating dirt.
When the train exited the tunnel and light returned to the carriage, passengers were shocked to see several men unconscious on the floor. At that moment, the remaining shady groups all turned their gazes toward Owen.
(End of Chapter)
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