Ryan found a hidden folder on the laptop containing a shipping manifest, clearly marked with the container numbers.
He restored the computer to its original state and sat back, puffing on the rich Cohiba cigar.
"Killian deliberately leaked the ship's location—he must want me to pass it on to DHS."
"He's trying to use me to alert them, so DHS can intercept the cargo and seize the secret weapon, shutting down the so-called 'Flame Project' before it begins."
"Makes sense. Now that he has control of the organization's funds, he's not looking to go out in a blaze of glory."
"After all, once that weapon's unleashed in L.A., he'll end up like Bin Laden—chased by the U.S. until he's dead."
"Ideals belong to the organization… but wealth? That can be his alone. Clever bastard."
Ryan smirked—he saw right through Killian's game.
"Not that I mind. He just saved me some trouble."
"Of course I have to notify DHS—if the weapon goes missing, I'll be their first suspect."
"Which means… I need a fall guy."
"Thanks to the wisdom of my brilliant ancestors, I've got centuries of strategic knowledge to draw on."
"Set tigers against wolves. Let the clams and cranes fight while I reap the spoils."
"Technically, I signed a confidentiality agreement. But if the leak comes from inside DHS? Not my fault."
A confident grin crept across Ryan's face.
When it came to strategy, no one could outmatch a descendant of Yan and Huang.
When Killian returned, they chatted only about the cigar's flavor and strength—an unspoken mutual understanding.
Back in his room, Ryan appeared to be lounging on his phone—but in reality, he was hacking.
As a Level 4 computer expert, Ryan could turn any device into a powerful cyber-weapon.
It didn't take long for him to write an ultra-stealthy Trojan, which he embedded in a text message to Dylan, his DHS handler.
Once Dylan opened the message, the Trojan would silently spread to nearby devices via Bluetooth, Wi-Fi, or LAN—searching for preexisting malware and piggybacking on them to leak the message.
Only the top intelligence agencies in the U.S. could possibly have moles inside DHS.
And whoever intercepted the message would naturally try to claim the weapon themselves.
If they clashed with DHS over it, Ryan could steal the weapon while they fought—clean, undetected, and utterly blameless.
At worst, LAPD might get mentioned—but in the intelligence world, LAPD was just a bystander.
DHS Los Angeles Field Office – Senior Supervisor's Office
Dylan was poring over files when his secret phone buzzed in his desk drawer. His eyes lit up—he rushed to open it.
A new message:
"Vessel name and container ID obtained. Undercover operation no longer valuable. End op?"
It came with an attachment.
Dylan was overjoyed and clicked it immediately: it contained a GPS tracking link for the Narwhal freighter and the container details.
What Dylan didn't know was that opening the attachment also activated the Trojan, which began infecting every nearby device in DHS's local network.
The Trojan searched each device for existing malware—and used them to re-send the message and attachment, including the Trojan itself.
Ryan wasn't just leaking intel—his virus was viral by design.
With every new device infected, the Trojan replicated, slowly infiltrating every intelligence and enforcement agency in the U.S.
Once dormant, the Trojan wouldn't trigger firewalls. But if anyone searched for info related to "Ryan," the Trojan would activate—sending real-time alerts back to him.
Even if someone discovered it, Ryan wasn't worried. As a master-level hacker, his identity was untraceable.
From DHS, to CIA, FBI, NSA, DIA, BSI, NRO, and even the Army, Navy, and Air Force intelligence divisions…
Ryan's Trojan slipped silently into their systems.
The U.S., with the largest intelligence infrastructure in the world, had never been so thoroughly breached—by just one man.
He'd only wanted to set some dogs on each other.
Instead, he now had backdoors into every American intelligence agency.
A classic case of "planting a willow by the roadside, only to grow a forest."