Chapter 57 - The Fake Auction
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The VIP auction room was bathed in dim, amber light. Ten of the world's most dangerous criminals sat around a circular mahogany table, sipping complimentary champagne, their bodyguards standing like statues against the walls.
I stood at the head of the table, projecting an aura of absolute dominance.
"Welcome, gentlemen," I said, my voice carrying effortlessly through the quiet room. "You are here because you want the keys to the kingdom. The Genesis Algorithm. A quantum decryption tool capable of bringing any global superpower to its knees."
I gestured to Jax, who tapped a keyboard. A holographic projection of complex, rotating code appeared in the center of the table.
"Bidding begins at five hundred million dollars," I announced.
The Russian oligarch immediately raised his paddle. "Six hundred."
"Seven hundred," a cartel boss countered smoothly.
As the bidding war escalated, my eyes scanned the room, looking for the anomaly. The Ghost wouldn't bid. He would send someone to infiltrate the room while the distraction of the auction kept our attention focused.
"Jax, check the server room," I whispered into my discreet earpiece.
"Server room is secure, Boss," Jax replied. "But wait... the casino's external power grid just spiked. Someone is tampering with the mainframe in the basement!"
Suddenly, the lights in the VIP room flickered and died. The holographic projection vanished. The room plunged into absolute darkness, followed instantly by the panicked shouts of the buyers and the metallic clicks of twenty guns being drawn.
"Hold your fire!" I yelled, dropping behind the mahogany table.
The emergency red backup lights flickered on a second later, casting the room in a bloody glow.
The buyers were frantic, aiming weapons at each other. But I didn't care about them. I looked at the master terminal where the algorithm was housed.
A man dressed in a casino waiter's uniform was standing by the console, a black USB drive already jammed into the port.
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"Stop him!" Elias roared, lunging across the room.
The waiter didn't run. He turned, locked eyes with me, and offered a cold, chilling smile before tossing a smoke grenade directly at his own feet.
