"That's the question we'll answer after the cities are secure," Daniel replied, his voice free of argument. "Time is running out. You have approximatelyforty-five minutesbefore the global detonation window begins to close. Follow my instructions with absolute precision. Mobilize your EOD, counterterrorism, and HAZMAT units. Do not attempt to move the devices. Defuse them on site, using the frequency I provided. After deactivation, begin disassembly and immediate forensic analysis, exactly as the team in New York is doing.Weigh each component and, crucially, the amount and type of nuclear material.All data must be transmitted to me in real time. I will be the global command center for this operation."
The silence that followed was heavy but brief. The urgency in Daniel's voice was undeniable. There was no alternative. One by one, the leaders nodded, their eyes, previously filled with shock, now focused with cold determination.
"Understood, Ghost. London is on the move," the MI6 chief said, his voice now firm.
"Paris ready for action," declared the head of the French DGSE.
"Tokyo follows your orders," the voice of the director of the Japanese Intelligence Agency echoed.
The global security machine, albeit reluctantly, had bowed to Daniel's authority. He had become the nerve center of a global counterterrorism operation, directing it from his ownmansionin Dubai. Henry, by his side, worked frantically, opening new communication channels, transmitting data, ensuring that every team in the field had the information they needed.
Daniel stared at the multiple screens, each now displaying a pulsing red dot on a global map, indicating the locations of the still-active devices. His mind was already calculating the quickest routes for his response teams, the specific deactivation frequencies for each device (there were subtle variations, he knew, designed to confuse), and the probabilities of success.
The fight was far from over. The morning breeze in Dubai blew gently across the vastmansion, but Daniel's mind was already miles ahead, mapping out the next steps in the complex and dangerous web of shadow war. Every second, the lives of millions hung in the balance, and Daniel was the only one who could hold them.
In the imposingmansionIn Dubai, the hum of Daniel's servers filled the air, a continuous chorus of computing power. The glass walls of his office shimmered with thousands of lines of data, satellite images, and world maps pulsing with energy. Henry, beside him, worked frantically, opening new communication channels, transmitting data, ensuring every team in the field had the information they needed. He could feel sweat beading on his forehead, adrenaline keeping him alert amidst the exhaustion.
The conference screens, connecting the pillars of power in the United States, showed tense, serious faces. TheDirector VanceThe FBI, the Attorney General, the Secretary of Homeland Security (DHS), the Secretary of Energy (DOE), and the Pentagon's Commanding General all seemed frozen in a mixture of newfound relief and dread. The desk in Vance's office still smelled of stale coffee and documents, now crumpled by anxious hands.
Daniel, his expression unchanged,honey brown eyesFixed on the interlocutors, he enlarged a high-resolution tactical map. A blinking red dot, overlaying an intricate network of railway lines on the outskirts of a major American city, dominated the screen. Another similar dot pulsed over the silhouette of a colossal stadium, its digital stands filled with dots representing thousands of lives.
"General," Daniel's voice echoed, calm but undebatable, a steely edge cutting through the tense silence. "The first artifact we've tracked with absolute certainty, with the signature identical to the ones from New York, is now in amoving passenger train, approaching a densely populated area on the outskirts of Chicago. Its speed is approximately seventy miles per hour."
The Pentagon general, a man with a strong jaw and steely eyes, paled visibly. He clenched his fists on the table, his knuckles white. "A passenger train? That's... unthinkable. There are hundreds of civilians on board. Our units can't intercept a target moving at that speed without risking detonation." He was breathing heavily, hiseyes, once steely, were now filled with despair, fixed on the screen where Daniel appeared.
Daniel ignored the General's interjection, continuing with calculated coolness. He wasn't asking, he was proposing dire options. "General, I'm sorry, but I'm going to borrow your nearest attack drone. That 'Gargoyle' model, armed with a precision air-to-surface missile and a secondary electromagnetic pulse. It has the ability to focus its impact. Casualties," Daniel continued, the word sounding like cold, inevitable calculation, "are a side effect. Better to blow one up."passenger train, but I guarantee, I'll be a surgeon: I'll only reach one wagon.Do you agree?"
Daniel's question hung in the air like a condemnation. The faces on the screen contorted in a mixture of horror and disbelief. The Attorney General gasped, covering her mouth with her hands, herwide eyesfixed on Daniel. The Secretary of Homeland Security looked like he was about to vomit. The conference room soundstage was filled with heavy breathing and murmurs.
TheDirector Vance, you blue eyesfixed on Daniel, his voice hoarse with tension, he was the first to speak, though hesitantly. "Daniel... a train full of people? Can't we just... Isn't there another way?"
"There is no,Director"Daniel replied, his voice unwavering. "Any attempt to slow the train, evacuate passengers, or physically interfere with the device will trigger the primary detonator. It's programmed to do so. My real-time risk analysis indicates that a full detonation of the device inside the train, without containment, would release energy that would sweep through entire neighborhoods, reaching an area several kilometers wide, not including radiation. The damage would be catastrophic, exponentially greater than the localized impact of a single car. Take your pick."
The Pentagon General, his brow furrowed in agony, closed his eyes for a second. He was a man of war, accustomed to sacrifice, but the thought of directly sacrificing civilians weighed heavily on his soul. However, Daniel's cold logic was irrefutable. "What's your accuracy with that drone, Ghost?" he asked, his voice low, almost a whisper.
"One hundred percent on target, General," Daniel replied without hesitation. "The missile hits the exact spot on the railcar containing the device, and the subsequent electromagnetic pulse ensures residual deactivation of the primary detonator. Casualties will be contained to that railcar and the one immediately adjacent to it. Fewer than fifty lives, instead of millions."
The General opened his eyes, a grim acceptance in them. He swallowed. "Do it, Ghost," he ordered, his voice firm now, the most difficult decision of his life pronounced with the authority of a wartime commander. "Use the drone. The coordinates are on your network. I'll transfer control of the 'Gargoyle' to you."
Daniel nodded, a silent acknowledgment. His nimble fingers danced over the holographic keyboard. On the tactical map, a small, high-altitude drone icon quickly changed digital possession, its path adjusting to intercept the train.
"Now, the second problem," Daniel continued, his voice devoid of any trace of emotion. The screens changed again. A new red dot pulsed over the image of a giganticstadium in Chicago, its virtual stands packed. The artificial light from Daniel's office panel cast harsh shadows on his face. "This device is inside the stadium. It's programmed to detonate inten minutes. From what I see, there is a large-scale event taking place, with tens of thousands of people."
The Secretary of Energy, who had already wiped the sweat from his forehead, now looked breathless. "A stadium?! In Chicago? How many people?!"
"Sixty-five thousand, approximately. Detonation is imminent," Daniel replied. "The radius of this bomb, if it fully explodes, is2.6 kilometers of total annihilation, outside the blast zone. There's the shock wave, which can kill within five kilometers. If they don't die from the shock wave, they die from the radiation, which reaches20 kilometerslethal range within hours." He listed the facts with the directness of a scientist describing an experiment. "I know you can't evacuate a stadium in ten minutes, nor can you physically neutralize the device without detonating it. I have a solution. I will shoot to kill. And I prefera hundred dead than millions dead. What do you choose? You have ten minutes."
The shock at the conference was palpable. Daniel's idea of "shoot to kill" was brutal in its simplicity.
"Shoot to kill? Daniel, what do you mean?"Director Vancehe asked, his voice trembling. Hisblue eyeswere wide, horror mingling with sheer disbelief. He rubbed his neck, as if trying to relieve an unbearable tension.
"It means I'll direct one of my low-intensity kinetic warheads at the exact spot where the device is located in the stadium," Daniel explained, his voice unwavering. "It's not a nuclear warhead. It's a precision-impact warhead, designed to destroy a target within a very small radius by pulverizing it. The localized impact will detonate the terrorist device with a much smaller explosion, but not without casualties. There will be a number of immediate casualties in the impact zone. Estimated:one hundred people, perhaps a little more. But it will contain the main explosion, preventing the chain reaction and the massive release of radiation. The stadium will be damaged, but not pulverized. Chicago will not be a nuclear wasteland.
A deathly silence fell over the conference. The choice was stark: a small, controlled catastrophe or mass annihilation. The White House Counsel, who had been silent until then, his face livid, made a guttural sound, but no words came out. The Attorney General collapsed in her chair, her hands covering her face, silent tears streaming through her fingers. The Secretary of Energy, scientist that he was, understood the logic, but the morality was a burden.
The Pentagon General, after a long, agonizing moment, looked at the others. Hissteel eyes, who had seen war in its most brutal forms, were now burdened with responsibility. "Ghost... is there no alternative?"
"Not to save the entire city, General," Daniel replied. "The bomb's timer is ticking. Every second is a life. If you don't act, Chicago will perish. Millions of lives. What do you choose?"
The decision hung in the air, heavier than plutonium itself. It was a dilemma that would make any leader waver. But time was running out.
"Do," TheDirector Vancehe whispered, his voice breaking. "Do whatever it takes, Daniel. Save Chicago." He looked at Daniel on the screen, a terrible gratitude in his eyes.blue eyes, a grim acceptance of the impossible choice.
The Pentagon General nodded, his head bowed, the expression of a man who had just condemned innocents but saved millions. "I'll send you the coordinates for the kinetic warhead. It's four minutes away. You have control, Ghost."
Daniel nodded again, without saying a word. His fingers were already flying across the holographic keyboard. On the map, a small red dot, a missile icon, changed its trajectory in seconds, accelerating toward Chicago. Daniel's mind was focused on precision, on calibrating the impact, on minimizing losses.
"And from what I see on the map, only the United States still hasten artifacts not yet activated, with the same signature," Daniel informed, his voice unwavering, thehoney brown eyesscanning the dozens of red dots now scattered across the world map on his screen. "They're not in major cities, but in logistics centers, ports, and large cargo depots. I won't activate my emitters yet. There's no countdown. But they're there. They're the next phase of the attack. And we have no time to waste."
The conference once again turned into a whirlwind of urgent orders. The momentary relief of the neutralization of the devices in New York had been brutally replaced by the reality of a global, widespread, invisible threat, waiting only for the right moment.
Already mansionHenry was in a cold sweat, his fingers flying over the keyboard. He could hear the desperate calls for coordination from global intelligence chiefs, the muffled sound of train engines in New York, the distant roar of the missile approaching the Chicago stadium. That day, he knew, would change the world forever. And Daniel, the "Ghost," was the only one who could guide them across the abyss.