Sparks and Shadows

I hate it when a stakeout lasts more than two hours," Xander whined. 

Harry gave him a bored look, his fingers drumming on his wristwatch. "You hate stakeouts." 

Xander turned to him with a gasp, betrayal shimmering in his eyes. "Why do you make me do it then?" 

Harry gave him a look that said really. "We just got here, Xan. Luca was the one on a stakeout, quit whining." 

Xander rolled his eyes. "Yeah. Because you need me on the techs. You make me do it countless other times. Why?"

Harry sighed but he answered, knowing Xander wouldn't leave him alone until he did. "You're good at it and I trust you, despite your spontaneous childishness." 

Xander gasped and Harry's hand went to his ear — where an in-ear comms was attached — ignoring Xander's down-turned lips and glare. He adjusted the ear comms. 

"Luca?" 

"Fourth floor. Lights are on. Two movements detected." 

"In and out?" 

"Elevator. Stairs. And a fire exit. Stairway is the best option to prevent suspicions or drawing any attention."

Harry nodded. "Gracias, Luca." 

Xander frowned as an image popped up on the laptop on his lap. He leaned in, brow furrowing. "Wait a minute—" His fingers flew across the keyboard. "Harry, we've got a problem."

He maximized the still frame, overlaying it beside the party footage. "Harry—"

Harry raised an eyebrow at him, voice sharp. "Qué?"

"Wade and the guy at the party are two different persons." He turned the screen towards Harry. "Here. I just got an image of Wade, it—"

"Doesn't match our guy at the party," Harry completed, his eyes narrowing on the screen. 

"Maybe they're working together?" Xander suggested. 

Harry's voice sounded distracted, his mind churning on the new information. "Possible." He turned away from the screen. "Luca?" 

"Sí?."

"We're sending two images to you—" He glanced at Xander, who nodded in understanding, fingers tapping away. "Confirm that the two movements match the images." 

"Roger that." 

Xander chuckled at the response, his eyes sparking with mischief even as they focused on the bright screen.

"It feels like we're on some secret agent mission here. You know, copy that Scorpio. On your six. Three O'clock." He snickered. 

Harry shook his head at his antics as he stepped out of the black minivan in black — all quiet aggression and clean lines. 

"Keep me updated," he ordered him, stalking away before he could answer.

His boots made no sound on the cracked sidewalk of Carrer de Badajoz. Around him, the neighborhood slept with one eye open, the buildings hunched like old men guarding secrets. Carrer de Badajoz was quiet at this hour, the hum of traffic distant, broken only by the occasional hiss of a scooter zipping past. 

Xander watched him stroll across the street towards an old, rundown but still functioning apartment building.

He moved like he belonged there, like trouble had sent him a formal invitation. With his black outfit, he became one with the night, illuminated by streetlights that buzzed faintly, casting amber halos on graffiti-tagged walls. He looked less like a man going to negotiate, more like a storm waiting to happen.

"What I would give to watch him deal with that sucker," Xander muttered. He glared at the tall, lean figure disappearing across the street. "He always leaves me out of the fun." 

Harry came to a stop in front of the building, his gaze scrutinizing: the apartment building slouched between two others, its stucco exterior stained from years of rain and rust. A broken intercom box dangled by the front entrance and the overhead light flickered like a dying star. Faded numbers above the doorway marked it more by habit than pride. It was the kind of place where the walls had seen too much and never forgot.

"Perfect place for hoodlums," he grumbled under his breath. 

Inside, the hallway was a graveyard of stale air and humming lights. Harry turned to the stairway, undoing the first two buttons of his shirt to reveal the edge of a Kevlar vest underneath. 

Luca's voice filtered into his ears. "The visuals match." 

"They planned it all together then," Xander chipped in. "I'm betting that Wade is the brain among the two." 

"Because?" Luca asked. 

"Because the brain never goes into shooting range, at least not at first. The way I'm sitting here doing the work while he goes off to have fun."

Luca's heavy exhale filled the comms. "I should have known you would spill trash."

"Now, Lulu darling, that's not—"

"Enough of the talking. Get his details, Xan," Harry ordered, his steps unhurried. "Find his connection to Ms. Montez."

"I told you, he has no connection to her."

Harry wished he was in the Van so he could punch Xander's face. 

How could someone be Smart and dumb at the same time?

"Xan—." 

"Yes?"

"The. Party. Guy's. Details," he said emphasized. "I need a name at the very least."

"Oh. Him?" 

Harry shook his head. "Yes. Him." 

Xander's voice floated in through the comms in minutes. "His name's Mateo Duarte. Twenty-five. Tech consultant, supposedly. He and Ms. Montez went to high school together — same year, same class. No real contact since graduation, at least not digitally."

Harry paused on the third floor landing. "Then why was he all over her at that party?"

"Exactly my question," Xander said. A few keystrokes clicked faintly through the earpiece. "Also, here's the kicker — he doesn't show up on any of her recent social circles. No tags, no follows, not even a mutual like."

A beat.

"But?" Harry implored. 

Xander chuckled through the earpiece. "There is always a but, isn't there? But, he follows her father's company updates like a hawk: public news feeds, board announcements, even their patents and acquisitions."

Harry stilled mid-step. 

That shifted the game entirely. 

Harry's brows drew together. "So this isn't about Ms. Montez. It's about her last name."

"Looks that way. Mateo's clean — no priors, no sketchy transfers but he did go off the radar for about six months two years ago. No job history, no digital trail and he started showing up again around the time your hacker friend started posting."

"That's too neat to be coincidence," Harry muttered.

"You think he's the muscle?" Xander asked.

"No," Harry said as he reached the fourth floor. "He's the bait."

"What bait?" 

"Time to find out. Luca?" 

"Second door to your right," Luca informed. 

Harry moved towards the said door, his steps quiet, stealth and purposeful. 

"Lulu darling, why are you so quiet? Not your scene?" Xander chuckled. 

" Xan?" Harry called, voice barely above a whisper. 

"Harry?" 

"Shut it." 

Luca's chuckle filled the comms this time. Xander scoffed. 

The doorknob turned in Harry's hand and the door creaked open slowly. He stepped in, not bothering to close the door behind him as his gaze swept the space. 

The apartment was cramped, cluttered and dimly lit — the kind of place that wore its silence like a threat. One overhead bulb flickered weakly, casting long shadows across a threadbare rug that had given up trying to be red. The couch looked like it had survived a fire or wished it hadn't. Every surface held something — receipts, wires, a phone charging, a stack of what looked like schematics half-shoved under a takeout box. No pictures on the wall. No sense of anyone living here.

Just someone waiting.

Harry's gaze landed on the figure sitting at what seemed to be a dining table, calm, like he'd been expecting company all along. A smirk slowly formed on his lips as their eyes met. 

"Took you long enough," he said, his eyes drifting behind Harry and back. "What? You came alone?" 

Wade. 

Harry's head moved to the side, his eyes moving leisurely over him — He was lean, average height and the confidence in his posture was a red flag all on its own. He didn't like confidence in strangers, especially not in strangers who should've been startled.

Young. Late twenties, maybe. Narrow face. Sharp eyes — too sharp. Not the dull flicker of a petty criminal but the cold calculation of someone who spent more time behind screens than in sunlight. He wore a plain sweatshirt, sleeves rolled, forearms tattooed with symbols Harry didn't immediately recognize. His expression didn't flicker when he saw him, if anything, he looked — excited.

Harry scoffed internally. 

He looks as excited as a rookie who just got his first shipment of drugs. 

Harry took a step forward. Another. "I see you were expecting more company." His voice was flat. 

Jonas swatted a hand in front of him, waving it off. "Doesn't really matter. It does look like Alejandro sent his best man." His eyes perused Harry the way one checked out a book before buying it. 

"Why the hell does he say Mr. Montez name like they're buddies?" 

"Well, false sense of familiarity that comes with stalking someone for years. It's been just a few hours of checking him out and I feel like we are soulmates." 

"Soulmates? Really?" 

"Hehehe." 

Harry ignored Luca and Xander's voice in his ears, tramping down the urge to pull the earpiece out of his ear. 

Jonas went on. "Let's not waste each other's time, yeah. Needless to say, I've more where the post came from and—." 

Harry's glass like voice interrupted him, his voice hard. "I didn't know that." 

Jonas had a smug smile on his lips. "Of course, you didn't. I just..."

"I'm on it. Servers. Clouds. Um— I can't find anything. Not the more. Nor any further info on him." Xander's voice through the earpiece sounded impressed. 

"What does that mean?" Luca asked. 

"It means that he fucking buried himself deeper than we thought. Gave out just enough to let us find him, I guess. The bastard. I think I see how Duarte is bait now. My balls told me he was the brain. What— oh Hell!" 

Silence. Rapid keystrokes filled the comms. 

"What's wrong?" Luca asked. 

"I—Shit! I just lost him." 

"Lost him? Who? What in Lucifer's name do you mean? Spit it out, Xander!" 

"Wade, dumbass. Turns out I didn't own him like I thought. Let me try hacking back into his server." 

Harry tuned back in and advanced towards the table, rolling the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows. 

"—I have five — no, six — separate video files. High-definition. From three different angles and just enough audio to sink a ship. You've seen one already — that's the appetizer. There's more. Messier. Louder. The kind that burns down legacies and starts internet fires even money can't put out."

He walked a slow circle around the room, like a lecturer warming up for his class. Harry's eyes tracked his movement, his body not moving an inch. 

"But I'm a reasonable man. I believe in value exchange. So here's my offer," Jonas continued. 

He held up a single finger.

"One. I want five million euros in untraceable crypto, broken into three wallets. I'll send the keys when I'm feeling generous."

Two fingers.

"Two. I want a clean passport — government-verified, not one of your back-alley prints — and a one-way ticket to anywhere I choose. Preferably somewhere warm."

Three fingers.

"Three. I want the Montez family's silent investment records for the last decade. All of them. Offshore accounts. Backdoor deals. Internal memos. I know they exist — I've seen the trail but I want the receipts."

Luca's voice filled the earpiece, his displeasure apparent. "He's got the Duarte guy doing the dirty jobs for him. That bastard scheming son of a bitch."

Jonas's smile turned blade-sharp.

"Because this isn't just about a girl and a party anymore, Mr. Stand-in. This is about the system, power and how pretty little empires can crumble with just one well-timed upload. I bet you don't understand all that."

"Who in fucking hell does that motherfucker think he's talking to! Permission to put a bullet through this asshole freaking brain," Luca ranted. 

"Lulu, maybe be a little quiet? I'm busy here." 

"Go fuck yourself, Xander." 

Xander tittered. "I'd rather do you, Lulu."

The comms went quiet. 

Harry remained silent, his eyes trained on the rambling fool in front of him. He tilted his head.

"—all three — money, identity, leverage — and I wipe the servers. Public, private, cloud backups, all of it. I even throw in a heartfelt oops, wrong person tweet for free."

Jonas leaned forward slightly, voice low and dangerous.

"But if I don't get what I want by Friday midnight... I release them. All of them. And not just to the internet. To media outlets. Government watchdogs. Political enemies. The kind of people who would love to watch the Montez name rot."

He straightened.

"So. Do we have a deal... or shall I start prepping the hashtags?"

Just then, a door opened to Harry's side and a guy — tall, bulk and wearing only his briefs — stepped out from behind it. Harry's eyes locked on him. 

Mateo fucking Duarte. 

"Babe, who are you talking to?" 

Harry moved, a blur of black. Before Mateo could notice him, he had his hands behind his back and a kitchen knife embedded into his thigh. 

Mateo howled, shrill and guttural. Harry didn't blink, didn't look away from Jonas. 

"Now we talk." 

He pulled the knife out, blood splattering on the floor and his pants, and plunged it into Mateo's other thigh, his screams echoing off the peeling plaster.