Chapter 10 Pursuit (2)

The owner continued, seemingly proud of his so-called photographic memory. "But I remember the names on his shopping bags, if that helps," He listed off a few store names, all local tech shops Reeves had already flagged in her search for Peter Johnson.

"Thanks," she muttered, scribbling down the names on her notepad. She flipped it shut and looked at the owner with narrowed eyes. "Let me ask you something. How does a motel like this—on the edge of nowhere—end up with a sudden camera malfunction? You're telling me that right around the time this guy checks in, your system just happens to break?"

The old man shrugged, scratching at the stubble on his chin. "Look, lady, I don't know. Coulda been anything. Those things haven't worked right in years."

Reeves wasn't buying it. If the cameras had gone down, it was because he wanted them to. She handed the motel owner her card.

"If anything comes to mind, anything at all, you call me," she said, her voice calm but edged with urgency.

The motel owner nodded, pocketing her card. "Sure thing."

Reeves returned to her car, her boots crunching against the gravel as she walked back with a sense of purpose. This wasn't just a lucky break; Peter had left breadcrumbs, albeit unintentionally. Whatever he was doing, whatever he was planning, he wasn't as invisible as he thought. There were cracks forming, and she was going to pry them wide open.

As she climbed into her vehicle, she flicked on the in-car radio and dialed into the command center.

"This is Agent Reeves," she said, her voice steady as the static on the line cleared. "I need teams dispatched to the following stores immediately. Cross-reference purchase logs with the last known whereabouts of our suspect. He's not slipping through this time."

---

Reeves sat at the command center, the hum of computers and the flickering screens casting a dim light over her focused expression. The last few days had been a relentless cycle of frustration, but now, as she reviewed the reports from her team, a chilling realization began to take shape. They had meticulously combed through security footage from local electronics stores, and a disturbing pattern emerged: various individuals had been purchasing high-end computers progressively, all paying in cash—hundred-dollar bills exchanged without hesitation.

Her heart raced as she scrutinized the transaction details. Each purchase seemed deliberate, almost as if these buyers were part of a coordinated effort to assemble something significant. The thought sent a shiver down her spine. What are they building?

"No," she whispered, shaking her head in disbelief. "It can't be."

Suddenly, it clicked. Unlike the others who blended into the crowd, Peter's choice to buy from this specific store was a mistake—a glaring misstep that could lead them directly to him.

Harris approached, his brow furrowed with concern. "Ma'am, we've cross-checked every purchase and analyzed every camera in the vicinity. The bulk purchases are suspicious enough, but this one…" He pointed to the screen displaying the receipt for the computer.

Reeves leaned in closer, her pulse quickening as she absorbed the implications. "This isn't just random buying; he's assembling a something" she murmured, her mind racing with possibilities. "But why? What is he planning?"

Harris's expression grew graver as he continued. "After he left that store, there's no footage of him at all. It's like he vanished."

A chill ran down Reeves' spine at his words. "He's not disappearing; he's rerouting," she said firmly, standing up abruptly. The realization hit her like a bolt of lightning: Peter was not merely running away; he was strategically evading capture with a level of skill that suggested he had been trained by someone who understood how to manipulate the system.

"Gather the team," she commanded, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. "We need to follow this lead before he slips away again."

As her team scrambled into action, Reeves felt a mix of anxiety and determination swell within her. They were closing in on Peter Johnson at last, and for the first time in days, hope flickered in her chest. This was not just another wild goose chase; they had a tangible lead that could finally bring him to justice.

With every passing second, she could feel the weight of urgency pressing down on her shoulders. Time was running out; whatever Peter was planning could be unfolding even as they spoke. As she watched her team gear up for what lay ahead, Reeves steeled herself for the confrontation to come. She wouldn't let him escape again—not this time.

The hunt was on, and she was ready to confront whatever dark intentions Peter Johnson harbored before they could come to fruition.

---

Reeves found herself in the sterile, polished offices of CIA headquarters in Washington D.C. The cold, fluorescent lights above cast a sterile glow over the massive table at the center of the room. Around it sat a handful of high-ranking officials—representatives from the CIA, FBI, and even DARPA. The air was thick with tension, the unspoken weight of the situation pressing down on all of them.

At the head of the table sat Director Jonathan Hale, his steely blue eyes focused on Reeves as she stepped forward to deliver her report. Hale had a reputation for being methodical, almost ruthless, and he wasn't the type to tolerate failure.

"Agent Reeves," he began, his voice cold and clipped. "You've been leading the charge on Peter Johnson for weeks now. And yet, we're still no closer to bringing him in. What's the latest?"

Reeves cleared her throat, trying to keep her tone calm and professional. "Sir, we've managed to narrow his movements to a small radius in California. We believe he's setting up a network, using advanced tech to stay off-grid."

"And what, exactly, do we think he's doing?" one of the other agents, a representative from the FBI, asked.

Reeves paused, choosing her words carefully. "I believe Peter is far more dangerous than we initially thought. The abilities he's carrying aren't just making him more powerful physically. They're allowing him to manipulate technology, encrypt communications, and essentially vanish when he chooses. He's not just a kid on the run anymore. He's preparing for something."

Hale's gaze darkened. "What is your timeline on locating him?"

"We've got teams on the ground in several locations," Reeves responded, pulling up a map on the central screen. "He's moving, but we've isolated a few key locations. I estimate we'll have him within the next few days if he makes a mistake."

A heavy silence hung over the room before Hale spoke again. "Agent Reeves, failure is not an option here. Whatever Johnson has planned, it needs to be stopped before it starts."

Reeves met his gaze, unflinching. "Understood, sir. I won't let him slip through our fingers again."

Hale leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Good. I expect updates every six hours."

Reeves nodded, turning on her heel and exiting the room. As she walked down the long, sterile corridor of CIA headquarters, her mind raced. She knew Peter Johnson was smarter than they'd given him credit for. He had outmaneuvered them at every turn. But if she could anticipate his next move—if she could get just one step ahead—she could stop whatever it was he was planning.

And something told her time was running out.