The getaway

The black sedan screeched to a halt near the bridge, just as the exchange concluded. Surya stepped out, his demeanor calm yet commanding. The chill of the Parisian night did little to deter his focus.

"John, drive. Specter, with me," he ordered, slipping into the passenger seat. Specter hesitated for a fraction of a second before complying, slipping into the backseat without a word.

John, gripping the wheel, started the engine without protest. His hands were steady, but Surya could sense the tension in his movements. The British operatives had been suspicious, and there was no telling if they were onto them yet.

**"System, scan for pursuit."**

A digital overlay flickered in Surya's vision. Multiple vehicles had started moving shortly after them—two black SUVs, keeping a cautious distance but undoubtedly trailing them.

"We've got company," Surya muttered, lowering his voice so only Specter could hear. The enigmatic agent remained impassive, his gaze fixed on the road ahead.

John exhaled sharply. "Damn. MI6? North Koreans?"

"Doesn't matter. Keep driving," Surya instructed. "System, suggest optimal escape route."

A three-dimensional map projected onto his retinas, highlighting narrow streets and alternate paths. A route flashed in blue, directing them towards the outskirts of Paris, away from major surveillance zones.

"Take the next right," Surya ordered.

John complied, the car swerving onto a dimly lit street. The SUVs followed, their headlights piercing the darkness. The pursuit was confirmed.

"They're not letting us go," John gritted his teeth.

Specter finally spoke, his voice as smooth as silk. "They wouldn't. Not with what's at stake."

Surya didn't respond. Instead, he focused on his next move.

**"System, activate counter-surveillance."**

Within seconds, the city's traffic cameras were manipulated. False vehicle signatures appeared on the digital grid, showing identical copies of their sedan veering off in different directions. Simultaneously, a police alert was falsified, directing local patrol units towards their pursuers.

A moment later, distant sirens wailed through the night. The SUVs hesitated at an intersection, splitting up—one continuing after them, the other taking an alternate path.

"One down," Surya murmured. "Now let's finish this."

He reached into his jacket, pulling out a compact device, an EMP disruptor. Flipping a switch, he lobbed it out the window. As the second SUV came closer, the device detonated with a brief, silent pulse.

The SUV's headlights flickered. Then, the engine stalled completely. It swerved violently before crashing against a lamppost.

John whistled. "Neat trick."

"Drive to the safe house," Surya said, ignoring the remark.

Specter, watching him closely, finally smirked. "I think I'm starting to like you."

Surya said nothing. His mind was already on the next move.

The safe house was a modest, unassuming apartment on the outskirts of Paris. Its dimly lit interior was sparsely furnished, a temporary refuge meant for fleeting stays. John wasted no time securing the doors and windows, while Specter casually leaned against a wall, his arms crossed, observing Surya with keen interest.

Surya, seated on a worn-out chair, laced his fingers together and studied Specter intently. "Who are you? And who do you work for?" His tone was calm, yet it carried an unmistakable authority.

Specter smirked. "I could ask you the same, but something tells me you already know the answer."

Surya remained silent, his sharp gaze locked onto the man before him. The system had already provided fragments of information about Specter, but there were still gaps—ones he intended to fill.

"System, analyze Specter's neural patterns. Detect signs of deception."

A translucent overlay appeared in Surya's vision, tracking Specter's physiological responses. His heart rate remained steady, breathing controlled—either he was a master at deception or simply unbothered by the situation.

Surya leaned forward slightly. "You're skilled. Not many people can mask their body language under pressure. That means you're either intelligence-trained or part of a private organization."

Specter's smirk deepened. "You're not wrong. But let's just say my loyalties aren't tied to any single flag. I work for those who pay well—and for those who have a cause worth backing."

John scoffed from the other side of the room. "A mercenary, then?"

Specter shrugged. "If that's what you want to call it. Though I prefer 'operative for hire.' Has a better ring to it."

Surya tapped his fingers against the table. "And who hired you for this operation? The British? Or someone else?"

Specter's expression darkened just for a second before returning to its usual composed self. "Now, that's privileged information."

Surya didn't need Specter to confess outright. His system had already picked up on the microexpression—a brief flicker of unease.

"System, extract and cross-reference all known private military and intelligence networks Specter may be linked to."

The response was near-instantaneous. A list of potential affiliations flashed before Surya's eyes—several high-profile private intelligence firms, a few black ops divisions, and an unregistered organization operating within European intelligence circles.

He smirked. "You don't need to answer. I already know."

Specter's eyes narrowed. "Do you, now?"

Surya's voice was laced with certainty. "You're connected to an entity that operates in the shadows of MI6 and the CIA—an unofficial division that works off the books, handling tasks neither agency wants to be directly tied to. That means you're expendable to them."

Specter's jaw tightened, the first real sign of discomfort. "You're dangerous, Surya. I like that. But knowing too much can also get you killed."

Surya's smirk didn't waver. "Funny, I was about to say the same to you."

Unbeknownst to Specter, Surya had already manipulated his brain, subtly nudging his thoughts, steering his instincts. The tension in the air remained, but Specter's subconscious was now susceptible to Surya's influence—a silent war waged within his mind.

The room fell into silence, thick with unspoken tension. Specter now understood that Surya wasn't someone easily manipulated. But Surya, too, knew that Specter was a man worth keeping close—for now.