Silas used the IP tool to trace the route. The hops didn't lead to a server in some far-off country or a known malicious domain. They looped back. The phantom was inside the building.
He minimized the sleek, flat-designed interface of his modern security suite. He needed something from a different era. He opened an encrypted archive directory he hadn't touched in years, navigating down a path of folders labeled simply Legacy .
For three weeks, a phantom script had been mapping the company’s internal network, jumping from node to node with a precision that bordered on art. It left no logs. It triggered no alarms. It simply watched.
But Silas knew better. He could see the micro-delays in packet routing. He could feel the weight of an uninvited guest.