"What is it?"
Owen rushed down the stairs and arrived beside Becky's computer in just a few strides. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she explained, "Look at this—just now, the Office of the Director of National Intelligence pushed an update. Someone on the dark web is selling copied intelligence from U.S. surveillance operations targeting foreign nations."
Owen glanced at the intel, marked as coming in just three minutes ago. A note on the bottom labeled the information as Extremely Reliable.
The Office of the Director of National Intelligence (ODNI) was currently the highest intelligence authority in the United States, and its director was none other than Jack Bauer. If the intel had been flagged and sent over from that office, it meant it had already passed some level of verification.
U.S. surveillance on foreign nations? Owen looked closer at the list posted on the dark web. It wasn't just adversaries—many of America's allies were on the list too. He frowned. If this was real, the only agency in the U.S. with the capability to conduct something like this was the NSA.
He turned toward Becky. NSA was, after all, her old employer. Becky immediately understood what he meant and shrugged. "I was just a tech at the NSA—I never had access to material this classified. And if I had known about it, I probably wouldn't still be alive. But… there was a period where the NSA's server throughput spiked sharply. Judging from that, this could very well be real."
Owen nodded. If this was legit, the NSA would be in full-blown crisis mode. If this data leaked, it would expose the U.S.'s dirty laundry to the world—especially the part about spying on its allies and even subordinate nations. That alone could turn the global diplomatic scene into chaos.
He was about to ask Becky more questions when his phone rang. The caller ID showed it was President Palmer's private line. Owen answered immediately.
"Owen, the situation is critical. The NSA has seriously screwed up. I want Omega to be fully prepared to clean up the mess."
A few minutes later, Owen hung up. President Palmer had issued a death order—this operation would be Omega's responsibility. The surveillance operation did exist, but its classification level was extremely high. Owen didn't know the specifics—he only knew that after this potential leak, the NSA still refused to believe the data had been stolen. They were convinced the seller had nothing real and was bluffing.
Owen had a headache. The seller had posted the information on the dark web, and it was still unclear whether they could trace it back to the source.
The dark web was a shadowy realm. No one knew when it first appeared, nor who was behind it. Owen had even suspected it was operated by a major nation—but there was no evidence.
The dark web was like an international no-man's-land. It never showed up in mainstream channels; most people didn't even know it existed. Yet in the underworld, it was the largest marketplace for illicit information—every second, new transactions took place. Every one of them violated international law, but that didn't stop them.
Murder-for-hire, human trafficking, child exploitation, organ trading, drug and arms deals—every kind of depravity found a home on the dark web.
Owen had never directly interacted with the dark web, but he'd dealt with its byproducts many times.
Back when his sister Amanda and Kim were kidnapped by Albanian traffickers, they'd been rescued—but many other girls had already been sold off via the dark web. Owen had investigated afterward and learned how the system worked: kidnapped girls were filmed and listed like merchandise online. Interested clients could even verify the "goods" via live video. If satisfied, the traffickers would use underground shipping channels to deliver them, without ever meeting face-to-face.
And that sort of industrial-scale trafficking wasn't even the worst of it.
The assassination contract targeting President Palmer had also been arranged through the dark web. Even the hit on Beth had been posted through the Continental Hotel network—an institution that, while specializing in assassinations, was only a small part of the dark web's ecosystem.
Governments around the world had long been aware of the dark web and had taken targeted action against it—including CTU and the FBI. But they'd only ever managed to take down individual nodes. If the dark web was Amazon, all they'd done was shut down a few sellers or buyers. The platform itself remained untouched.
Owen frowned. "So… no way to trace it?"
Becky shook her head. "The dark web's architecture uses a strange protocol. Its address changes constantly. This second, you might just be a visitor—next second, you become one of its servers. That makes it virtually impossible for hackers to break in."
Many countries had tried. All had failed. The tech behind the dark web was formidable. That's why Owen suspected a powerful nation might be behind it—only such an entity could have the resources to support this kind of infrastructure.
"Wait, let me see… There's one good piece of news: the seller's demanding an in-person deal."
Becky's eyes lit up as she looked at Owen. This was indeed good news. Not everyone on the dark web trusted the platform completely—after all, everyone involved was doing something illegal. Many sellers still preferred to meet face-to-face, believing that was the only way to ensure their own safety.
"That's great. Say yes. What are the possible meeting locations?"
Owen clenched his fist—if they could meet in person, his chances of catching the seller increased significantly. Becky quickly exchanged messages with the other party, then turned back. "Paris, Venice, Milan, Berlin. They said any of those four will work—pick one."
Owen exchanged a glance with Becky. Clearly, the seller was an old hand. To outsiders, those four cities were tourist hotspots. But insiders knew they were world-famous intelligence hubs—hotspots for spy activity and info brokers.
"We'll go with Paris."
Owen chose Paris—not for any tactical reason, but because after rescuing his sister there, he'd worked hard on his French. Now, at least, basic communication wouldn't be a problem.
"Okay, it's set. They agreed. Ten million U.S. dollars. Non-negotiable. Payment by transfer or equivalent in gold—no other options. The meet's scheduled for the day after tomorrow in the afternoon. Exact location to be announced later."
"Get me a plane ready. I want to fly to Paris tonight. And contact Jack—I'll need an account with at least ten million dollars."
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