CHAPTER 9: THE FLASH DRIVE
CHAPTER 9: THE FLASH DRIVE
The surveillance team returned once again to the restaurant footage.
This time they slowed the recording to one-quarter speed.
For hours nothing unusual appeared.
Then technician Ian Mercer froze the frame.
"Wait."
David's right hand disappeared beneath the table.
A man seated at the neighboring table adjusted his chair at the exact same moment.
The footage from another camera showed their hands briefly meeting beneath the edge of the tablecloth.
Less than one second.
Almost impossible to notice.
Ian enlarged the image.
A tiny black object changed hands.
Detective Hale leaned closer.
"Can you sharpen it?"
Several enhancement programs later, the object became clearer.
A USB flash drive.
Officer Donovan stared at the screen.
"So the argument wasn't random."
Hale slowly nodded.
"It created a distraction."
While everyone's attention focused on Maya and David...
Someone else quietly walked away carrying something important.
Investigators immediately identified the unknown diner.
The reservation had been made under the name Michael Ross.
The address on the reservation belonged to an abandoned warehouse.
The phone number had been disconnected years earlier.
A fake identity.
Exactly what Hale expected.
That night, a tactical team entered the abandoned warehouse.
Dust covered the concrete floor.
Broken windows rattled in the wind.
The building appeared empty.
Then one officer noticed fresh tire tracks leading toward the rear loading dock.
Another discovered recently extinguished cigarette ashes.
Someone had been there.
Recently.
Very recently.
Officer Donovan found a laptop charger still warm to the touch.
"They left in a hurry."
Before anyone could continue searching, a faint engine echoed outside.
A black motorcycle shot past the open loading bay.
The rider wore a matte-black helmet.
No license plate.
No identifying marks.
Only a dark backpack strapped tightly across his shoulders.
"Go!" Hale shouted.
Officers sprinted toward their vehicles.
The motorcycle accelerated into the maze of industrial streets, weaving between trucks and traffic with impossible precision.
From the back of the motorcycle, the rider glanced briefly into the mirror.
Then smiled.
Inside the backpack rested a small metal case.
May you like
And inside that case...
The same flash drive that had disappeared beneath the restaurant table.
