CHAPTER EIGHT
Masks of Deception
Daniel leaned against the wall, acting every bit the relaxed engineer enjoying the celebration. Inside, though, his mind was racing at top speed, evaluating stray comments and keeping a mental score of everyone’s expressions. He had learned the hard way that missing a single clue could mean disaster.
He’d been undercover for a full year now. Gaining Vivek’s trust, earning a spot in this secretive company, had meant wiping his past clean, even dropping off the FBI’s radar for a while. Slowly, he’d climbed the ranks by staying quiet, (though he couldn’t help wondering if the FBI still fully trusted him after so long).
Of course, the work itself was crazy—quantum computing at the bleeding edge. Physics equations, engineering puzzles… not exactly your everyday code monkey gig. But he’d stuck with it, (telling himself each morning that this insane mission was at least better than being locked up forever), and now he had a front-row seat to the real show.
Even now, he had to keep his guard up. He caught himself drifting to old memories: the day the feds busted his hacking crew and forced him into a deal. He might never have chosen to wear the “good guy” hat, but it sure beat prison. Some days, the idea of revenge still whispered to him, but he pushed it aside to survive.
Eyes roving across the room, he took in the security layout: guards posted at intervals, cameras in strategic corners, sensors likely able to pick up the slightest disturbance. Getting intel out would be a challenge, (yet he’d faced tight spots before and always found a path).
He spotted Dr. Hartman and Nicole chatting animatedly. He’d studied both. Hartman—brilliant, maybe a bit obsessed. Nicole—a rising star fresh from a PhD under Dr. Maya Manalang. She could be a goldmine of information, especially if she felt uneasy about the moral implications of this tech.
For now, Daniel focused on mentally recording the hybrid computer’s specs. A colossus like this wasn’t just about commercial potential; it could have enormous ramifications for national security. And if Vivek had gambled with SynapseSync data, the FBI would want proof (they didn’t place Daniel here just for fun).
His gaze sharpened as Vivek breezed in, flanked by two guards. The tailored suit, that self-assured stride… yeah, the guy practically dripped ambition. Daniel inched closer, keenly aware that overhearing even a few sentences might reveal a hidden weakness.
“…ahead of schedule… truly pleased with your work…”
“…invaluable contributions… excited for next steps…”
He picked up an undercurrent of tension between Hartman and Vivek. Two men with two different endgames, using each other for now. Daniel knew that in a conflict, such partnerships tend to implode spectacularly.
Suddenly, a hand on his shoulder. He almost jumped but turned to see Nicole smiling.
“Quite a day, isn’t it? Come celebrate with us!”
She looped her arm through his before he could protest. Daniel decided to go along—perfect chance to get closer and gain her confidence while projecting an air of casual interest and genuine camaraderie.
Nicole introduced him to Hartman, who was surprisingly affable. Amid the rush of congratulations, nobody questioned Daniel’s presence. He shook hands, made small talk, and kept half an ear on Vivek’s ongoing conversations, hoping to catch any mention of deadlines or covert arrangements.
From what he overheard, Vivek wanted to parade the prototype before investors and push commercialization full throttle. Daniel felt a twinge of distaste. Cutting corners for profit? He recognized the approach—been there, done that. The Bureau, no doubt, would relish the chance to scrutinize this.
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After about an hour, Vivek and his retinue left, letting the others relax. Refreshments circulated, tension thinned. Time to make a move. Daniel sidled up to Nicole (making sure to seem earnest, not probing).
“Quite a breakthrough,” he remarked. “Sky’s the limit with this tech, huh?”
Nicole’s smile dimmed a bit. “Yes. But some ‘limits’ might be important. Certain uses could cross the line.”
He tilted his head. “Yeah? Such as?”
She hesitated, then lowered her voice. “SynapseSync data… Let’s just say it was pushed into use fast. Maya wanted more trials, but Vivek insisted we skip steps. There are… risks.”
Daniel nodded. “I’ve worried about that too. Maybe we can chat more sometime, over dinner?”
Nicole’s face flickered with uncertainty. “Perhaps. Just be careful who you mention this to, Daniel. Loose lips and all that.”
He grinned. “Understood. We’ll call it a date.”
She could be a solid source, especially once he had a bit more leverage. But he still needed hard evidence. His hacking attempts had hit a wall with Dr. Manalang’s robust security. Time to go old-school. With celebrations underway, security might be distracted elsewhere.
Slipping away from the clinking glasses, Daniel navigated deserted hallways. A few turns later, he arrived at his target: Maya Manalang’s office. The electronic lock was no match for his decryption tool. One faint click, and he was inside barely pausing to check if anyone had noticed.
The desk computer powered on at his touch. His custom malware—refined through countless break-ins—punched through the login with ease. Maya was a genius, but Daniel had bested more formidable systems, always taking pride in his ability to beat the odds.
He sifted through folders until he found Project Cerebrum – Results. Bingo. Within seconds, he had copied everything onto a disguised USB that glowed subtly blue as it transferred data to his remote server, hidden behind multiple proxies, making any direct trace almost impossible.
He watched the progress bar inch forward, tension coiling in his gut. Was that a footstep in the corridor? A low voice? His instincts screamed leave, but he refused to go empty-handed. This was his shot to prove the infiltration had paid off.
Somewhere close, a door latch clicked. Pulse hammering, Daniel ducked behind a tall server rack. He clamped his jaw shut wondering if he’d have to fight his way out.
A security guard strolled in, quietly mouthing a tune. He flicked switches to shut down the lights for the night. Daniel’s heartbeat pounded in his eardrums, each second stretched to the breaking point (every sense screaming: stay still).
The guard roamed around a bit, then left, switching off the lights. Daniel waited, body taut, for a full minute. At last, he crept out, being careful not to disturb a single cable.
Back at the computer, the progress bar read 100%. With a few keystrokes, he erased the logs and pulled out his drive. But it snagged on some sort of auto-lock. “Really?” he muttered, jamming a paperclip in until it came free, every second feeling like a countdown.
Then he noticed blinking warning indicators on a nearby console. Looked like in his hurry, he’d tinkered with the quantum core’s safeguards. He grimaced—no way to fix it now without risking exposure.
No time to fret. He slipped out, hugging the walls as a guard rounded the corner. He merged with a couple of employees heading out, heart still thudding (but at least his expression remained convincingly casual).
He ducked into a silent utility closet, letting the guard’s footsteps recede. The sharp smell of cleaning supplies anchored him in the moment. (He might not enjoy being an undercover asset, but he was alive and still carrying the data.)
A few minutes later, he was outside the facility’s perimeter, breathing the night air with measured calm. Once there was distance, he produced his burner phone (hands still trembling with adrenaline).
“Go secure,” Isabella’s voice crackled. Daniel activated the encrypted line.
“Got the Cerebrum intel,” he said, injecting a hint of satisfaction into his voice. “Proof of the SynapseSync trials, all of it. Sending now.”
A tight pause on the line, then Isabella spoke. “We’ll dissect every file. Nicely done, Daniel.”
He let out the faintest laugh. “Time for me to drop off the radar again, right?”
She made a noise that suggested amusement. “You do what you have to do.”
He ended the call and hurled the phone into a nearby lake with a decisive splash. No regrets. The next few months? Sun. Sand. Cocktails with silly names. He’d more than earned it (and if fate had other plans, well, that was tomorrow’s worry).
Walking away, he caught the soft sound of the device hitting water, a small thrill rising in his chest. Score another one for the supposed ‘hero.’ With that final thought, he vanished into the shadows.