Chapter 6
Ryan's efficiency blew me away. He moved faster than I ever thought possible.
Less than three hours after he walked out, the operation hit Skyline Gallery before anyone knew what was happening.
There were no sirens, no roadblocks.
Dozens of agents, disguised as tax, fire, and business inspectors, swarmed in from every entrance at the same time.
With the intel I'd handed over, they slipped past every guard and camera, visible or not, without a hitch.
The whole thing was smooth as silk, not a single guest was alerted.
Meanwhile, the gallery owner, a portly middle-aged man, was still busy fooling around with his mistress in his office.
Ryan and his team had already kicked open the hidden door inside his office.
Behind that door was a secret room packed with servers and electronic gear.
That was the nerve center of the whole money laundering operation.
The whole operation went off without a hitch.
The owner and all the key staff were nabbed right then and there.
The core data on the servers was grabbed literally seconds before it got wiped.
Every ledger and file stashed in the underground vault was seized.
Ryan called me right after the operation wrapped up, his voice crackling with barely contained excitement.
On the phone, his voice was brimming with excitement. "Cap, we did it! We got them red-handed!"
"Don't celebrate just yet," I cut him off, my words dousing his excitement like a bucket of cold water.
"The real fight starts now. Pull everyone out right now. Move!" My tone made it clear there was no room for argument.
Ryan didn't get it, but he didn't hesitate. He followed my orders without question.
Just as he and the last of his team stepped out the gallery's front door, the building was left behind.
Suddenly, the power to the entire building was cut.
The backup generators didn't kick in.
The whole place was plunged into a dead, suffocating darkness.
Then, a lethal, odorless gas began seeping silently from the air vents, spreading through the building like a shadow.
It was nerve gas.
Phantom's counterattack had arrived.
It hit harder and faster than I'd ever imagined.
He wasn't after just destroying the evidence.
He wanted everyone who'd come into contact with it wiped out, along with the evidence itself.
If Ryan and his team had been thirty seconds late getting out, there would be thirty cold bodies lying in that gallery right now.
Standing at a safe distance, Ryan stared at the lifeless, silent building, and his blood ran cold.
He finally understood what I meant when I said our enemy was "more ruthless than any wolf".
This wasn't a crime. This was war, a war with no rules, no mercy.
"Cap, thanks," Ryan said, his voice rough with emotion.
"This isn't over," I replied. "Phantom's counterattack is just getting started."
Just as I finished speaking, a red dot on my computer screen began flashing rapidly.
That was Cleaner's signal.
He appeared.
He was at a café near the gallery.
He wasn't involved in the gallery job.
He just sat there, like a graceful hunter, admiring his handiwork.
Then, he was ready to clean up afterward.
"Ryan, how many people do you have left that you can call in?" I asked.
"12 from Alpha Team, all ready for action!" Ryan replied, sharp and confident.
I said, "Good.
"I'm sending you a photo and his location right now.
"Bring him in alive, whatever it takes.
"He's the one who triggered the gas remotely—Cleaner sent by Phantom.
"He's our first lead to finding Phantom."
"Got it!" Ryan hung up and immediately started issuing commands.
The 12 agents spread out like silent predators, moving in for the kill as they surrounded the café.
Meanwhile, I brought up every feed from the cameras surrounding the café.
I wanted to see for myself how this guy would get reeled in.
Cleaner looked totally unaware.
He was relaxed as ever, sipping his coffee, even pulling out his phone like he was about to snap a selfie.
But I knew he was scanning his surroundings in the phone's reflection.
He'd already spotted Ryan's team closing in.
But he didn't run.
Instead, a contemptuous smile curled on his lips.
He was taunting them.
He was waiting for Ryan and his crew to make the first move.
Just as Ryan gave the signal, Cleaner sprang into action.
He didn't head for the door. Instead, he crashed straight through the floor-to-ceiling window and bolted onto the street.
A black motorcycle rolled up right on cue, stopping in front of him like a phantom.
He hopped on in one seamless motion.
The motorcycle let out a roar and melted into the thick traffic in a blink.
It all went down in a split second.
Ryan's team couldn't even get their guns up.
"After him!" Ryan shouted.
He jumped behind the wheel himself, tearing off after Cleaner.
The city erupted into a wild, pulse-pounding chase.
I watched the two blips dart across the screen, and my heart sank.
Something was wrong.
This was going way too smoothly.
Cleaner's escape route was hair-raising, but every move was so precise it felt like a training exercise.
He took advantage of every red light, every alley. like he'd planned out every inch of this route.
He wasn't running away.
He was... guiding them somewhere.
He was luring Ryan into a carefully prepared trap.
"Ryan, stop chasing him!" I yelled into the comms.
"He's got something up his sleeve! It's a trap!"
But it was too late.
But it was too late.
Ryan's car had already swerved after the motorcycle, disappearing into an abandoned tunnel.
And just then, the signal went dead.