Immediately, this alphanumeric sequence was injected into the vast vehicle registration databases. Within moments, the answer emerged: aArmored BMW 7 Series, year 2023, registered in the name ofAegis SolutionsThe name resonated with a twinge of recognition in Daniel. Aegis Solutions. A high-profile private security firm known for its confidential contracts with governments and large corporations. Its main offices were in Las Vegas, but Daniel knew they had a discreet network of operations in other major cities.
The search for that specific vehicle, that BMW with the real license plate, wasn't limited to registration. Daniel tracked it down throughelectronic tolls and license plate readersscattered along major Los Angeles highways. The car's movement history materialized into a three-dimensional map, showing a precise movement pattern in the days leading up to Ethan's disappearance. The vehicle had left an industrial warehouse in East Los Angeles, about twenty kilometers from the park, three hours before the abduction. It drove directly to the park area, made a five-minute stop three blocks away, enough time for the team to position itself, and then, at the precise moment, the abduction. Afterward, it immediately returned to the same warehouse. The ping of theOnboard GPSof the BMW confirmed: the car was still parked there, inside the warehouse.
Daniel's mind moved to the next point: theelectromagnetic pulse devicethat had blinded the cameras. The analysis of thecell phones connected in the areahad filtered out the usual traffic, isolating a single device with an anomalous RF signature. It was a military crypto-communication device, with the exact capability to emit the detected pulse. The serial number of this device was traced through defense contracts, auctions, and high-tech smuggling networks. The result again pointed toAegis Solutions. The device had been legally acquired by the company years ago.
The connection between the car and the device led to a specific name within Aegis. The search for theownerfrom the license plate, through fleet records and vehicle access, identified a driver with a history in that BMW:Marcus ThorneDaniel hacked into the personal records of Marcus Thorne: a 45-year-old former special operations agent from an elite unit, compulsorily retired two years ago for unspecified "health reasons." His profile detailed skills in surveillance, target extraction, and, crucially, electronic countermeasures. The profile perfectly matched Ethan's mother's description: tall, wearing a dark coat, and a hat. Daniel accessed Thorne's financial records. The former agent's bank account had been filled with irregular deposits over the past six months, totaling amounts far above his official remuneration at Aegis. The source? Offshore accounts in the Cayman Islands, which Daniel traced, after delving into intricate layers of shell companies, to an anonymous and shadowy trust. The money trail was complex, deep, and reeked of something much bigger than a simple kidnapping.
As this data converged, Daniel turned his attention to thehacking of LAPD servers. Within seconds, he was inside, moving like an invisible electric current through the LAPD's firewalls and security protocols. He accessed thepolice reports on Ethan's case, registration 385472-6. The language was formal, downplaying the camera "failure" to "unspecified technical problems." No mention of the dark car, the license plate, or the electromagnetic interference. It was a glaring omission, almost a dissimulation.
Daniel activated the feeds ofLAPD's internal surveillance camerasAn image of a police station appeared on one of the monitors: fluorescent-lit hallways, offices with cluttered desks. It focused on a conference room where three detectives and a lieutenant were hunched over a city map. The voice of Detective Miller, a balding man with a coffee stain on his shirt, was captured by Daniel's microphone: "We're stuck, Lieutenant. No leads, no solid witnesses. The park cameras were malfunctioning, you know. We've already swept the area, spoken to all the neighbors. It's like the boy vanished." The lieutenant, with red hair tied in a tight bun, tapped her pen on the map, her frustration almost palpable even through the screen. "I know, Detective Miller. But we can't stop. The pressure is mounting. The media is on us. The Chief wants results." The tone of another detective, a young man with a thin beard, was one of resignation. "Results of what, Lieutenant? There's nothing to work with. This is another one of those cases where we file it as 'missing' until the body turns up." Daniel listened, a coldness settling in his chest. They were lost, or they were being deliberately misinformed. The absence of the pieces he already had was deafening.
Finally, the results of thesearch for known child abusersin the Los Angeles area. Thousands of names, records, addresses, photos. Daniel applied his pattern analysis algorithms, searching for connections between locations, recidivism histories, and "interest" profiles on obscure forums on the Dark Web, the sickest corners of the internet. The main screen transformed into a map dotted with red dots, each a convicted or suspected predator. However, cross-referencing revealed no direct link between these individuals and Aegis Solutions, or Marcus Thorne, or the modus operandi of Ethan's kidnapping. Daniel's intuition was confirmed: Ethan was not a random target of a common predator. He was part of something larger, more orchestrated, and the Aegis Solutions group appeared to be involved in something far more complex than a simple kidnapping for heinous purposes. The search for these criminals served to eliminate a line of investigation, directing Daniel more precisely to the target.
The summary was complete. Daniel had the car, the license plate, the name of the likely kidnapper, the company involved, and the evidence of police manipulation. All the pieces were on the table, visible on his monitors. That car, the armored BMW 7 Series from Aegis Solutions, still parked in the industrial warehouse on the East Side of Los Angeles, was the next piece of the puzzle. Daniel's eyes shone with a new intensity, focused on the screen that now displayed the map of Los Angeles, the warehouse flashing red. He was ready.
"Playing hide and seek," Daniel muttered to himself, a faint smile playing on his lips as his eyes fixed on the pulsing red dot of the warehouse on the map. The barely audible sound of the Lakeside Technology Center servers in the background sounded like an invisible orchestra preparing for the symphony he was about to conduct. His right hand slid across the holographic keyboard, his fingers dancing over the blue light projections, and within seconds, the screen transformed into a complex interface of three-dimensional codes and diagrams, a representation of the Pentagon's cyberspace. There was no hesitation, no obstacles. It was as if he were gliding through corridors that to others would have been impassable mazes. He wasn't "breaking in" in the usual sense, as there were no barriers to contain him. It was more like passing through a door that to everyone else was a solid wall.
A military tactical map, filled with real-time data points, appeared. Hundreds of blue dots, each an aerial asset—fighters, bombers, transport planes—hovered over the territory, some on routine missions, others on silent patrols. Daniel's eyes scanned the digital expanse until he found what he was looking for: a small, vibrant green dot, aRQ-4 Global Hawk surveillance drone, in a high-altitude orbit over the West Coast, imperceptible to the naked eye, a silent shadow in the sky. The Global Hawk, a technological marvel with its long, thin wings and an array of advanced sensors, was equipped with ultra-high-resolution cameras capable of reading license plates from miles away, and a suite of laser-guided weapons.
With a few keystrokes, Daniel rewrote his mission parameters. The drone, previously following its programmed reconnaissance course, now received new coordinates, a new objective. The green dot on the map deviated slightly from its course and began moving with imperceptible speed, heading east toward Los Angeles. The image on one of Daniel's monitors switched to the drone's live view: an abstract cloudscape and, just below, the intricate patchwork of cities, gradually approaching its target. The image quality was so sharp that, even thousands of feet above sea level, Daniel could make out the rooftops of buildings, the gleaming pools in the backyards, the dark smudge of the warehouse becoming increasingly defined, a small cube of metal and concrete amidst a tangle of streets and other industrial structures. He zoomed in, the drone's optical zoom revealing the rust on the gate hinges, the oil stains on the asphalt, and even the undergrowth growing in the cracks of the yard. The image pulsed on his screen, a perfect, real-time vision.
As the drone hovered silently over the warehouse, Daniel shifted his attention to his headset. With aimperceptible touch on a neural sensor attached to your headset, which he used for quick, intuitive activations—a micro-movement or directed intention (through neural reading of his own brain signals, processed by specific hardware) translated into an instant action—he accessed the LAPD's internal network again, but this time, instead of just observing, he sent a directional signal. The line dialed.
Detective Miller's phone at the station must have vibrated on his desk. Daniel saw the gray office on the auxiliary monitors: Miller, the coffee stain still on his wrinkled shirt, was rubbing his eyes, exhaustion etched on his face. The phone rang again, and Miller, with a sigh, answered.
"Detective Miller,"Daniel's voice, still cool and controlled, echoed through the encrypted line. Miller seemed to freeze, the phone pressed to his ear. His expression, previously weary, turned into a mixture of shock and disbelief. He looked around the room, as if searching for the source of the voice.
"Who... who is it?"Miller stammered, his voice hoarse with surprise.
"You know me as Ghost. I have the information you need about case 385472-6. Ethan's kidnapping."Daniel's voice was an authoritative whisper, but every word carried the weight of irrefutable truth.
Miller swallowed, his eyes wide. He stared at the coffee stain on his shirt, almost as if Daniel could see it. "How... how do you know... who you are?"