Chapter 4: The Visual Snare

  Barcelona Airport

  El Prat Airport was a chaotic symphony of motion; PA announcements overlapped in a metallic drone, suitcase wheels rattled against the polished floors, and weary travelers drifted toward gates in a daze. Amidst the blur, Ariel and Alfredo stood out by being perfectly still. They weren’t looking for anyone; they were observing the rhythm of the room itself.

  Ariel scanned the arrivals board, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Alfredo adjusted his watch, then pulled up the collar of his coat as if measuring the very temperature of the air.

  "Three minutes late," Alfredo murmured. "Acceptable."

  Ariel gave a slight, tired nod. "I’m still not convinced by this... especially given the sensitivity of the case. But maybe we do need the distance."

  "Don’t worry," Alfredo replied with a faint, cryptic smile. "I told HQ our arrival was scheduled for three days from now."

  Ariel’s brows shot up. "Wait—isn't that a bit excessive? I didn't mean we should vanish for nearly a week."

  Alfredo’s gaze remained steady. "I didn't do it for them. I have something I need to finish."

  "What do you mean?" Ariel asked, a flash of suspicion in his eyes.

  Alfredo offered no explanation, his silence a wall Ariel knew better than to push against. They moved with the flow of the crowd toward the exit—synchronized, calm, and deliberate. At the gate, no words were exchanged. Every step had been calculated long before they touched down.

  A black car waited for them at the curb. They climbed in, and the vehicle merged into the thick Barcelona traffic, leaving the airport behind in a hushed, professional silence.

  One Hour Later – A Small Hotel on the Outskirts

  The room was sterile, clean, and utterly unremarkable. Two bags sat by the wall, and half-drawn curtains allowed a pale, grey light to bleed into the space.

  Ariel threw himself onto a leather chair, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees—a posture of growing impatience. "What’s the move, Alfredo?" he asked, his voice cutting through the quiet.

  Alfredo placed his tablet on the glass table. The blue light reflected off his calm, porcelain-like features. "We’re putting on a show," he replied coolly.

  Ariel snapped his head up. "A show? Alfredo, we aren't here for a vacation. We have an open case... missing children—"

  "We haven't abandoned them," Alfredo interrupted smoothly. "We have a window of time."

  "A window doesn't mean safety," Ariel countered. "Are you sure this is the right time for this?"

  Alfredo swiped the screen, projecting a map onto the tablet’s surface. "I’ve given the mother clear instructions. Based on the initial report and the data from our unit, the situation there is stable. Disturbing, yes, but not yet at the point of collapse."

  Ariel exhaled sharply. "Stability isn't security. You’re willing to burn time on... a performance?"

  Alfredo leaned back, interlacing his fingers. "We are going to run a limited interactive experiment in a public hall. The city is crowded, the demographic is diverse. It is the perfect petri dish to test 'perceptual patterns'."

  Ariel’s face softened slightly, but the skepticism remained. "Are you joking? We just got here. Any public move could blow our cover. What does this have to do with the children?"

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Alfredo’s smile was faint, almost reassuring. "I have the green light from the Unit. We won’t be exposed because we’ll be behind the curtain. The idea is to set a 'sensory snare'."

  "Explain," Ariel said, his voice losing some of its edge.

  Alfredo stood and walked to the window, watching the city lights begin to flicker to life. "The cases we track, these... anomalies... they don't happen in a vacuum. There is always someone connected to them, often without realizing it."

  Ariel’s eyes followed him. "And you think a show will draw them out?"

  Alfredo turned slowly, his eyes sharp with a cold brilliance. "The performance is built upon subtle visual paradoxes. Most will see something that resembles 'magic' and applaud. However, those with a different sense—a sharper, heightened perception—will detect something unexpected. They will notice a flaw that unbalances the scene, like a haunting dissonance in the symphony of reality"

  A heavy silence filled the room as Ariel weighed the logic. "You aren’t looking for an audience," he said finally. "You’re looking for a needle in a haystack."

  "To put it simply," Alfredo corrected, "whoever notices the glitch... reveals what we’re looking for."

  Ariel sighed, surrendering to his partner’s strange methods as he always did. "I hope you’re right."

  Alfredo returned to the table as if remembering a minor detail. "By the way... how much do you have in your bank account?"

  Ariel looked at him warily. "Why?"

  Alfredo gave a sly, predatory smile. "Because the bait has to look real. And we need a very convincing cash prize."

  The Next Day – Vigo – Inside Matthias’s Car – Evening

  The car glided through the rain-slicked streets of Vigo, while the streetlights painted rhythmic orange streaks across the wet windshield. The engine hummed a low, mechanical tune, and the radio played soft indie music that filled the gaps between their silence.

  Oweis sat in the passenger seat, his temple resting against the cold glass. His eyes followed the city’s reflections, but his mind was elsewhere, deconstructing images and reassembling them in a restless daydream.

  Matthias broke the silence, his eyes fixed on the road with exaggerated focus. "I bet if we let Adrian drive, we’d be halfway to the Portuguese border by mistake."

  From the back seat, Adrian smirked lazily, messing with his phone. "Not my fault the streets in this city decide to change direction at night. Every turn looks identical."

  "Especially those tiny roundabouts," Matthias scoffed. "You loop around three times before you find the exit. It makes you question your own existence."

  Adrian laughed, leaning his head back. "I just don't like complications. Or fines. Unlike you, my friend."

  "There is nothing worse than trying to explain myself to a traffic cop," Matthias countered, "while you’re sitting there filming the road for an Instagram story instead of telling me the light is red."

  A short laugh rippled through the car before a quiet calm settled in.

  "Listen, don't worry," Adrian said in a relaxed tone. "Nobody stops a car like this. We’re practically invisible."

  Matthias bristled as if personally insulted. "Hey! Watch it. She’s a 2015 model. Just because she hasn't been washed in a month doesn't make her 'old'."

  At that moment, a faint, rhythmic squeak echoed from the undercarriage. Oweis spoke for the first time, his voice quiet but heavy, his eyes never leaving the window. "What about that whining sound?"

  Matthias gave a strained smile. "That’s not a sound... that’s a 'mechanical protest' we treat with total neglect."

  Adrian poked his head between the front seats. "At least the engine still has the energy to protest. Unlike some people in here." He caught Oweis’s eye in the rearview mirror, studying him.

  Oweis turned slowly, his gaze icy. "Are you trying to say something, Adrian?"

  Adrian shrugged with mock innocence. "No... just saying you’ve been drifting for two weeks now. Like you’re reviewing your life’s highlight reel... or planning a crime."

  "Leave him be, Adrian," Matthias interrupted. "Maybe he just realized that immigration and studying here don't create miracles like they do in the movies."

  A thick silence lasted for a few seconds before Oweis muttered dryly, returning his gaze to the road. "At least here... if I lose something, I know why I lost it."

  Adrian let out a low whistle. "Wow. That’s deep and dark. Should we change the station, or let you finish your existential philosophy lesson?"

  Matthias chuckled softly and reached for the radio, turning the volume up slightly to escape the weight of the sentence. The music faded out, replaced by a radio host with a routine, uninspired voice.

  "...And for the weekend, Barcelona will host an extraordinary interactive show... centered entirely on the arts of optical illusion and mental games."

  No one paid attention at first, but the next sentence made Oweis’s ears ring with clarity.

  "The organizers are challenging the public. A massive cash prize for whoever can uncover the 'glitch' in the main act."

  Oweis’s features froze. The word glitch echoed in his mind like a siren.

  "Wait," Adrian said after a two-second delay. "Did he say a cash prize?"

  The host continued with the same irritating calm. "...Details will be revealed only inside the hall. This isn't just magic... it's a test of the limits of perception."

  Matthias scoffed, turning the wheel at a corner. "Optical illusions. Just smoke and mirrors as usual."

  Oweis leaned forward slightly, his eyes wide with a strange, sharp focus. "He said... a test of perception? What does that mean?"

  "It means money!" Adrian said with sudden enthusiasm. "That’s all that matters."

  Matthias shook his head. "It’s probably a trick within a trick. No one gives out money just because you’re smart."

  "But they didn't specify the amount," Oweis whispered, almost to himself.

  Adrian gave a cunning grin. "That means they’re very confident that nobody will ever find the secret."

  The radio returned to music as if nothing had happened. Matthias sighed with boredom. "Anyway, Barcelona is far... and we’re buried in coursework. We don't have time to chase ghosts."

  Oweis didn't respond immediately. He leaned back again, but his daydreaming was different now. It was tinged with a sharp, dangerous curiosity.

  "By the way," Adrian said, trying to shift the mood, "did you hand in the physics report?"

  "Not yet," Oweis replied, his mind still on the radio. "I’m still editing. It feels... incomplete."

  Matthias laughed. "You always say that, and then it comes out better than all of ours combined."

  Oweis gave a pale smile that didn't reach his eyes. "That’s because I don't trust what I write until the very last second."

  Adrian laughed and finally locked his phone, sighing. "Sometimes I feel like we’re just running in circles here. University, home, study, sleep."

  Matthias brought the car to a halt at a red light and spoke with a tone of harsh realism. "Welcome to the real world."

  Oweis looked at the red light. For a fleeting second, it seemed to flicker with an irregular, jagged rhythm.

  "The real world..." he whispered to himself.

  To be continued...