“Phantom, call Savage and Vicious. Have them greet our guests.”
“On it,” she said before Matrix added. “Also, a man named Samuel Patterson filed a missing person report five days ago, which was updated to kidnapping yesterday. Boss, they have a pic of Ghost, saying he is wanted for Aariaani Nichols' kidnapping. According to the report, Ghost is considered armed and dangerous.”
“Damn right I am,” I grinned.
“Also, I was able to get a facial recognition on Grimm when he pulled some cash out of an atm in Mobile, Alabama.”
“What the fuck is he doing there?” Reaper asked, looking directly at me. I shrugged my shoulders and replied. “No clue. We have no ties to Alabama. Never even been there.”
“Track his movements the best you can, Matrix. Anything else?”
“Um,” Sypher whispered, holding his hand up as if he were in school.
“Speak up boy,” Moonshine yelled.
“Sorry dad. I was able to locate the man you call the Collector.”
“Excuse me?”
“What?”
“Holy fuck.”
“Are you serious!”
“Yeah, it was rather easy. I just plugged in the current info I pilfered from Matrix’s system, back-traced it with known affiliates, geo-tagged his last known location, did a quick social media search, and boom. He’s right here.” Sypher said, pointing to his computer screen while the whole room stared in shock.
I stared at the kid who couldn’t be more than sixteen, maybe seventeen, with wide eyes. Of course, I didn’t understand a single fucking word he said, but holy fuck, the kid was good.
“Did you just hack my system?” Matrix growled as everyone heard Phantom laughing in the background. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” she snickered.
“Show me?” Reaper said, turning to the now blushing kid who picked up his laptop and placed it in front of Reaper.
“Here, boy, sit here,” Moonshine said, getting up from his seat, letting his son sit at the head of the table. Doing so, men gathered around him as he spoke. “This right here was his last known location. We know he flew out of this small airport when he took Mr. Reapers wife.”
“Not my wife,” Reaper said, then grinned at me. “Yet.”
Nodding, the kid continued. “From there, the plane landed here in Louisiana. There was a Twitter update .3 seconds later from that exact location from a person by the name of Bipartisan Aces, saying ‘Pizza is here.’.From that point, the trail went cold until he reappeared on the dark web and purchased Mr. Ghost’s wife. But something was funny about that Twitter handle. It bugged me. So, while ya’ll were talking, I took a better look at it, and then I realized what it was, an anagram.”
“A what?” I asked.
“An anagram. You take any name, mix around the words to create another. Bipartisan Aces is also Sabastian Capri.”
“Who the fuck is that?” Reaper asked.
“Boss, Sabastian Capri is one of the wealthiest men in the world,” Phantom stated. “I’m talking untouchable rich. He’s known for making or breaking politicians, movie stars, banks, you name it. Hell, he fully funded the current President’s re-election campaign, and it didn’t even put a dent in his wallet. He runs the world from his desk. Nobody does anything without his permission, and he can make you disappear without a trace.”
“What else, boy?” Moonshine asked.
“Ms. Phantom is right dad. Mr. Capri is untouchable. The second I started a search on him, my computer was tagged. I’m running a back trace now, but whoever is on the other end is better than me.”
“Fuck kid, no one is better than you,” Ravage stated, and I had to agree. This kid found more information within a few minutes than Phantom, Player, or Matrix found in months. This kid was a fucking genius.
“If this man, Mr. Capri, is the Collector, and I am 90% sure he is, there is no way anyone can get to him unless he allows it. He is guarded twenty-four-seven by fourteen armed mercenaries. He’s never in the same place for long. He travels by plane, jumping in and out of the dead spots.”
“Dead what?”
“Dead spots. When you fly, there is a projected path most planes take. That’s how air-traffic controllers keep the friendly skies safe. Basically, everyone stays in their lane, kind of like driving on the interstate. Those who don’t want to be seen well fly around those areas, the dead areas. Typically, those areas are designated for military and high-ranking officials around the world, but if you know the patterns, it’s easy enough to figure out.”