We got to the office and saw that Goran is already gathering everybody into the meeting room. It took us few minutes but shortly we were all sitting around the table. The tension from earlier still lingered, though it had shifted from explosive to merely uncomfortable. Only Goran stood at the head of the table, arms crossed, pointedly not looking in my direction. My face throbbed in sync with my heartbeat, a constant reminder of last night's mess.

  Jovan fidgeted with his laptop, stealing glances between Goran and me like he was watching a tennis match. Ljiljana sat serene as ever, the empty thermos of rakija in front of her, while Milenko shuffled through his ever-present stack of papers.

  "Just a side note before we start. I'll start examining those documents right after we're done here," Milenko announced, adjusting his reading glasses. His voice carried that familiar academic tone that made everything sound like a lecture waiting to happen.

  "I'll join you," Ljiljana added. "Some of those texts might need a more... traditional perspective."

  The room felt smaller than usual, charged with unspoken words and professional courtesy stretched thin.

  I cleared my throat, wincing as pain shot through my bruised jaw. "As you're all aware, last night I managed to have quite the enlightening conversation with The United Force crew. They definitely orchestrated and executed the Archive attack, but they were merely pawns in someone else's game, hired guns, nothing more. Someone contracted them anonymously through various dark web channels, paid handsomely in bitcoin with no trace. What's particularly interesting is that this mystery contractor provided them with specialized hacking tools that were leagues beyond anything in the standard black hat arsenal. Their leader, Trouble, pretentious name, I know, couldn't stop gushing about how these tools sliced through security like it wasn't even there. Said they worked faster and more efficiently than anything he'd ever encountered in all his years of digital breaking and entering."

  I reached for my coffee cup, and took a careful sip of the bitter liquid before setting it back down with deliberate precision.

  "According to Trouble's rather enthusiastic confession, amazing what people will share when they think you're about to die, they'd already completed the handover of all digital copies and scanning logs about an hour before they decided to introduce me to their charming hospitality last night," I continued, my fingers absently tracing the rim of my cup. "But they got greedy and overconfident, kept an extra copy of everything as insurance or leverage. Classic amateur move, really. Thought they were being clever by holding a bargaining chip. Not exactly the brightest decision they could have made, considering how things played out for them in hindsight."

  Goran stepped in, his voice detached. "As a result, at approximately 23:40, two armed individuals entered the establishment. Military precision, no warnings, no demands. They executed everyone present, Aleksandar luckily excluded, and retrieved specific items - laptops and computers presumably containing the copied files and hacking tools."

  "Professional hit team," I added. "In and out in under two minutes. They knew exactly what they were looking for. So we can safely assume they were sent by the contractor to clean up loose ends"

  Jovan's fingers flew across his keyboard. "The tools they provided to United Force - they were magically enhanced and tweaked so anyone can use it. Regular magical malware couldn't penetrate those security protocols so efficiently. And could not be used by non-magical hackers."

  "And the timing," Milenko leaned forward, papers forgotten. "They waited until the transfer was complete. They let United Force do the heavy lifting, then eliminated them and took everything."

  Ljiljana's expression darkened. "Including the scanning logs. Those could give them a blueprint to every digitized document in attacked institutions."

  "The contract itself was interesting," I continued. "United Force was given explicit instructions about magical files. Trouble thought it was a joke, but they followed the protocol exactly as specified. He wanted me to explain more about magical part."

  "They were set up from the start," Goran stated flatly. "Used and disposed of once they served their purpose."

  "The level of coordination suggests one of the big players," Milenko mused, reaching for his ever-present notebook. "The magical knowledge combined with military precision and the resources involved..."

  The room fell silent as we processed the implications. A non-magical hacker group unknowingly used as pawns, magically enhanced tools distributed through the dark web, military-grade hit teams cleaning up loose ends - this was no ordinary operation.

  I caught Goran's eye across the table. The anger from earlier had been replaced by something else - concern most probably, although maybe a trace of fear. But Goran afraid? Not gonna happen. I brushed it off.

  Jovan broke the silence turning his laptop so we could all see the screen.

  "Trouble, real name Stefan Radovi?, was quite the character," He explained "Computer science dropout turned hacker. Brilliant mind, but couldn't handle the academic structure. Too creative, too... uncontained."

  He pulled up a series of financial records that scrolled past too quickly for me to follow. The green text against black background reminded me of those old hacker films from the 90s.

  "He kept United Force's digital operations profitable, quite profitable actually, but this particular job..." Jovan's voice trailed off as he tapped a few more keys, bringing up what looked like encrypted communication logs. "This was completely off the organization's books. No digital footprint connecting to their usual operations. The regulars weren't involved at all, just those unfortunate guys who happened to be at the pub that night."

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  "Wanted to keep the bitcoin for himself," I said. "Fat lot of good that did him."

  "Now, about those plates you sent me," Jovan continued. "The BMW is registered to one Dragana Kosti?, owner of 'New Look' hair salon." He pulled up a satellite image, then paused dramatically, his eyebrows knitting together. "Except..."

  The screen displayed what should have been a thriving business but instead revealed a desolate scene of destruction, a jagged pile of rubble where a building once stood. A rusty chain-link fence encircled the demolition site, plastered with weather-worn advertisements for concerts long past and services no one remembered, their colors bleached by sun and rain into ghostly remnants of commerce.

  "That can't be right," Milenko leaned forward, squinting at the screen. "The registration is current?"

  "Updated last month," Jovan nodded. "The address exists in city records as an active business location, but..." He gestured at the demolition site.

  "Wait, New Look... wasn't that connected to the White City hackers last year?" I asked suddenly remembering a case we worked some time ago.

  Jovan nodded. "The cryptocurrency laundering case."

  "We never proved anything," Goran said, his earlier anger forgotten in the face of this new development. "The digital trail went cold, and the physical surveillance showed nothing but a busy salon."

  "A salon that apparently doesn't exist anymore," I added, "but is still actively registered and connected to our hitmen's vehicle."

  "Can you pull up everything we have on White City?" Goran ordered, his voice tight. "Every scrap of data, every surveillance photo, every connection - no matter how minor."

  "White City," Jovan pulled up a complex network diagram on his screen, its digital tendrils spreading across multiple sectors like an electronic spider web. "Active since 2008, they've methodically infiltrated everything from high-security government databases to supposedly impenetrable corporate networks. Their signature is unmistakable, clean, eerily professional work, no vandalism, no bragging, no digital fingerprints. They get in, take what they want, and vanish without fanfare."

  I leaned back in my chair, feeling the familiar weight of frustration as memories of our previous investigation flooded back, snapshots of sleepless nights and dead-end leads flashing through my mind. "They're definitely not your garden-variety script kiddies looking for attention or street cred. These guys, or women, who knows, have seriously advanced skills and resources that would make most national intelligence agencies envious." I shifted slightly, the chair creaking under me as I gestured toward the screen. "Remember that sophisticated attack on the Ministry of Interior's database last year? Everyone, including our own analysts, was convinced it was Russian state hackers until we painstakingly traced those traffic patterns through the digital labyrinth."

  "Belgrade IPs," Goran nodded solemnly, his eyes narrowing with the memory of our near-miss. "But they were infuriatingly smart about it, bounced everything through a dizzying array of proxies across three continents. Like ghosts in the machine. We followed digital breadcrumbs for weeks only to watch them dissolve into nothing. We never even got close to identifying a single individual behind the keyboard."

  "They've got connections across the region," Milenko added, rifling through his papers. "Croatia, Bosnia, Macedonia - wherever there's political unrest, White City seems to show up. But they're selective about their targets."

  I tapped my fingers on the table, thinking. "Their botnet operations alone bring in serious money. Bitcoin, primarily. They could easily afford professional muscle when needed."

  "The pattern fits," Jovan agreed, typing rapidly. "Clean execution, professional tools, political undertones. But this is the first time we've seen them dabble in anything magical. We shouldn't forget that also the tools provided were heavily enhanced with magical tweaks."

  "Look at their target history," Jovan pulled up another screen. "Government corruption exposures, human rights violations, corporate fraud - they position themselves as digital Robin Hoods. Regular digital warfare. But this..." He gestured at the attack data. "This doesn't fit their usual MO. Why target historical archives?"

  "Unless the magical angle is the point," Milenko mused. "These documents could be worth far more than simple political leverage."

  I felt that familiar itch at the back of my mind - the one that said we were missing something obvious. The White City connection made sense, almost too much sense. Like pieces fitting together too perfectly.

  "We need to dig deeper into that salon connection," I said finally. "Something about this feels off. White City's never been this sloppy before - leaving a vehicle registration that links back to their previous operations? That's amateur hour."

  "What do you think our next move should be, given everything we've learned?" Goran asked, his eyes scanning the room before settling on me.

  "So now, the only thing we can really do is wait and try to gather more information on White City," I said. "They'll realize the files are useless soon enough."

  Jovan nodded, pulling up a network diagram. "The decryption will take them at least thirty-six hours, even with the stolen key. Once they crack it and find blank files..." He trailed off, letting the implication hang.

  "They'll come for the physical copies," Ljiljana finished, her fingers drumming against the empty thermos. "And they'll be angry."

  Goran leaned forward. "The Archive's regular security is insufficient. I've already called in additional personnel - four teams rotating through the weekend."

  "I'm not sure even that would be enough." I cut in. "If these are the same people who hit the pub, they won't hesitate to use force."

  "Agreed." Goran's expression hardened. "That's why we're setting up our own additional surveillance. Jovan, what can you give us?"

  Jovan's fingers flew across the keyboard. "I've tapped into the Archive's CCTV network. Adding our own cameras would be suspicious, but I can enhance the existing feeds with magical detection algorithms."

  "Focus on the basement access points," Milenko suggested, spreading out the building plans. "The old tunnel network - there are at least three entry points they could use."

  "Four," Ljiljana corrected quietly. "There's an unmarked passage behind the east wing mechanical room. It's not on any official plans."

  I raised an eyebrow. "How do you-"

  "Book Keeper business," she cut me off with a slight smile. "Let's leave it at that."

  "Right." Goran took out his phone, checking messages. "Aleksandar, you and Jovan coordinate the technical surveillance. Ljiljana, I need you to set up detection wards through the network - subtle ones, nothing that would trigger their magical sensors. Milenko..."

  "Research support," the older man nodded. "I'll cross-reference their methods with historical attacks. Might give us some insight into their next move."

  "I'll monitor from here," Jovan added. "Set up alerts with Ljiljana for any spell-print matching the attack pattern."

  "Good." Goran stood, signalling the end of the meeting. "Everyone stays reachable this weekend. If they make a move, we need to be ready." He paused, looking at each of us in turn. "And no lone wolf operations this time. We work as a team."

  That last bit was clearly aimed at me, but I couldn't argue. Last night's adventure had taught me that lesson the hard way. As we filed out, I caught Ljiljana's eye. She gave me a knowing look - the kind that said she understood exactly what I was thinking.