The air in the R&F Mall's high-roller room in Johor Bahru was thick with the scent of money, fear, and expensive perfume. Jäger, resplendent in a bespoke suit that cost more than his entire Division kit, felt the subtle thrum of his disguised SHD watch against his wrist. It was integrated now, speaking to the Lionshead Syndicate's network, not ISAC's ghost. He was still connected, but to a different machine.
"Remarkable, isn't it, Jäger?" Percival murmured beside him, sipping a single malt. He looked impossibly young for the weight in his eyes, draped in the role of the slightly eccentric personal assistant. "The lengths people go for illusions of control. All this wealth, yet they're still slaves to their desires."
Jäger scanned the room. Dealers, their faces impassive, shuffled cards with practiced ease. Security guards, impeccably uniformed, stood like statues. Somewhere in this opulent theater, a deal was about to go down that could cripple global intelligence.
"Where is he?" Jäger's voice was a low growl, barely audible above the clinking of chips.
Percival's gaze flickered. "Dato' Arshad Malik. Over there. The man in the gold-threaded tunic, surrounded by his entourage. Preening like a peacock. And the cartel representative… Ah, there she is. A rising star in the Golden Triangle network. Goes by the moniker 'The Viper.' Quite literally, a serpent among men."
Jäger's eyes locked onto her. She was younger than he expected, sharp-featured, with eyes that missed nothing. Her posture suggested a coiled spring, ready to strike. Unlike Malik's ostentatious display, she radiated quiet danger.
"Our objective is the quantum encryption algorithm," Jäger reminded Percival. "The deal, not the lives."
Percival gave a thin smile. "Naturally. But situations evolve. Be prepared for evolution."
Malik and The Viper were heading towards a private VIP lounge, a discreet section cordoned off by velvet ropes. Jäger and Percival casually drifted in their wake, their presence unassuming amongst the other high rollers. Jäger felt the familiar prickle of adrenaline, a sensation he knew better than any other. This was different from firefights and urban warfare. This was delicate. Dangerous.
Inside the lounge, the air was thicker, the sounds muted. Malik's security detail formed a loose perimeter. The Viper's two silent bodyguards, men built like brick walls, positioned themselves near the entrance. The deal was about to commence.
Jäger's internal map, fed by his SHD integration, highlighted the data package. It was on a secure drive in Malik's briefcase. The Viper had a hardened laptop. The exchange would be quick.
"Time for a diversion," Percival whispered. He pressed a button on his hidden wrist device. Suddenly, a high-pitched, almost imperceptible whine filled the room, growing louder, oscillating. It was a sophisticated frequency jammer, designed to scramble specific electronic signals – in this case, the highly secured communication lines of Malik's security and The Viper's bodyguards.
The two brick walls near the door flinched, their earpieces spitting static. One reached for his comms, momentarily distracted.
That was Jäger's cue. Moving with a grace that belied his powerful build, he executed a perfect 'accident.' His shoulder connected with the larger bodyguard's, sending a glass of champagne flying. The bodyguard roared, turning, his hand going for his concealed weapon. Jäger, faster, spun, his movement blending into a feigned stumble that brought his hand brushing past the bodyguard's belt. A tiny, almost invisible device, no bigger than a fingernail, stuck to the man's comms unit. It was an SHD-derived miniature EMP, designed for surgical, localized disruption.
The bodyguard's comms crackled, then went dead. His earpiece went silent. His partner, across the room, fared no better, frantically tapping his own unit. Confusion rippled through Malik's security detail.
As their attention fragmented, Percival made his move. He glided towards the small table where Malik's briefcase lay, his movements fluid and almost hypnotizing. With a practiced flourish, he "accidentally" knocked over a stack of chips, scattering them across the table. As he bent to retrieve them, his fingers, impossibly nimble, brushed the briefcase. A tiny crackle, too faint to hear amidst the casino noise, and a miniature data siphon, no bigger than a coin, was affixed to the brief. It began its silent, rapid transfer.
Malik, flustered by his security's sudden disarray, barely noticed. The Viper, however, was a different story. Her eyes narrowed, scanning the room. She was too sharp, too observant. Her gaze landed on Jäger, then on Percival, a flicker of suspicion in their depths.
"This is not a coincidence," she hissed, her voice cutting through the lounge's muted hum.
Percival stood, offering Malik a charming, apologetic smile. "My sincerest apologies, Dato'. Clumsy of me. Too much excitement at the tables."
Malik waved a dismissive hand, trying to reassert control over his flustered guards. The Viper, however, was already reacting. She snapped a command at her remaining bodyguard, who immediately began to move towards the entrance. She was cutting her losses, abandoning the deal, sensing the unseen danger.
Jäger knew the siphon needed more time. He couldn't let her leave.
In a move honed by years of urban combat, Jäger slammed his palm onto the roulette table. The heavy wheel, balanced for precision, spun wildly, sending chips and bets scattering, drawing gasps from surrounding gamblers. "Fool!" Jäger roared in exaggerated Arabic, pointing an angry finger at Percival, "Your clumsiness costs me! This table is rigged!"
The sudden, loud outburst created instant pandemonium. Gamblers shouted, security rushed towards the commotion. Malik's men were drawn to the spectacle, their attention fully diverted.
The Viper, however, wasn't distracted. She saw the orchestrated chaos, saw the fleeting look between Jäger and Percival. Her eyes, cold and calculating, fixed on Jäger's tailored suit. There was a subtle bulge beneath his jacket, the familiar outline of a concealed weapon. Not an oil magnate.
She moved. Not towards the exit, but towards Dato' Malik, her hand blurring towards the back of his neck. A small, wickedly sharp blade emerged, gleaming under the casino lights.
"The deal is off!" she shrieked, her voice suddenly high-pitched and deadly. "And you, Dato', are a liability!"
Jäger reacted instantly. His hand, already on his sidearm, moved with practiced speed. The tailored jacket parted, revealing the suppressed weapon beneath. He didn't aim to kill. He aimed to incapacitate, to prevent the irreversible.
A single, suppressed shot echoed faintly amidst the rising chaos in the casino. Not at The Viper, but at the light fixture directly above her. It exploded in a shower of sparks and broken glass, momentarily plunging that section of the lounge into darkness.
In the confusion, Percival, whose data siphon had just chimed a silent "transfer complete," grabbed Malik's briefcase, melding back into the general panic. Jäger, meanwhile, flowed towards The Viper, now disoriented and blinded by the flash. She spun, blade raised, but he was already there. His hand shot out, not to strike, but to disarm with brutal efficiency. The blade clattered to the floor.
"You're not leaving with that data," Jäger said, his voice low, no longer playing the role of the oil magnate.
Her eyes, now adjusting to the gloom, burned with furious recognition. "The Division," she hissed, the word a venomous whisper. "You're supposed to be dead!"
"Rumors are often exaggerated," Jäger countered, pulling a small, discreet taser from his sleeve. A single, sharp crackle, and The Viper went limp.
Within seconds, the Syndicate operatives were in motion, blending into the panicked crowd. Dato' Malik, still reeling from the sudden turn of events, was secured by Percival's team, along with the recovered briefcase. The Viper and her bodyguards were discreetly removed, melted away as if they had never been there. The casino security, overwhelmed and confused by the "rigged table" riot and the strange electrical disruptions, focused on restoring order.
Back on the yacht, steaming silently towards international waters, Jäger looked at the recovered data drive. The quantum encryption algorithm. It was safe. He felt a flicker of grim satisfaction. The mission was a success.
"Clean," Percival commented, wiping his hands on a silk handkerchief. "Efficient. A new era, Jäger."
Jäger looked out at the dark expanse of the South China Sea. The lights of Johor Bahru twinkled in the distance, a vibrant, oblivious world. He was saving it, piece by piece, in ways it would never know. But the cost was becoming clearer. The Division had been about direct action, about light in the dark. The Syndicate operated in shadows so deep, they risked becoming the darkness themselves.
The ghost in the machine. He wondered just how much of Jäger, the soldier, remained, and how much had been subsumed by the phantom he was becoming.