“I saw all the video transmitted from those glasses, through Lucan. It was a good thing that Elaine, she, saw nothing.”
ASI Headquarters, Director’s Office. Summoned immediately upon his return from the university hospital, Patrick now stood in the Director’s Office.
It was just past seven in the evening. The outside was completely dark, and the night view of Canberra was visible from the Director’s Office.
And before the tired-looking Patrick stood two men—Director Bradford, seated at his desk, and a man in black standing beside it.
“That said, Sir Arthur. Don’t you think you went a bit too far this time? For the man in question to be hovering on the brink of death…”
Director Bradford glared at the man in black standing beside him—a member of the Special Service Agency WACE, a man called Arthur—but the man’s reaction was nonchalant.
“Rest assured. That man will not perish.”
Hearing this, Director Bradford sighed in exasperation. But Arthur simply scoffed at him. The great ‘Wise Eagle’ was being treated with blatant disrespect. But the man named Arthur continued his insolent behaviour.
“You, of all people, should be aware that no method of killing that man exists in this world. Or have you forgotten?”
Arthur avoided making a clear statement, instead offering a vague and provocative remark. The pistol holstered at his hip was a nine-millimetre. And Patrick, without having to think too deeply, understood everything.
Arthur. He was the one who had shot Senior Technocrat Varlozzi. He had aimed only for the vital spots that would have been instantly fatal to a normal person and had fired fourteen shots relentlessly.
“Sir Arthur. Instead of evading, an explanation—”
Director Bradford glared at Arthur again, but he did not yield.
“This situation is not simple enough to be explained with words. The case we have entrusted to you is not the only problem. However, there is no need for you to be aware of the other matters.”
Perhaps Arthur had genuinely wanted to eliminate Senior Technocrat Varlozzi. —Listening to the exchange between the Director and Arthur, that was what Patrick thought. Without such murderous intent, one would not commit such an atrocity.
To aim only for vital spots, to fire more than a dozen bullets into a human body, to attempt to kill. In such cases, the root cause is a deep-seated grudge. There must be some kind of ‘strong negative emotion’ swirling between Arthur and Senior Technocrat Pellmond Varlozzi. An emotion so strong that it could easily overwhelm reason.
“…”
And at that moment, Patrick felt it. He had stepped into an unbelievable world. He was on the verge of becoming an accomplice to a great evil, where violence was permitted under the guise of carrying out great justice.
“...So, Sir Arthur. What do you intend to have my subordinate do?”
Director Bradford asked Arthur, his brow furrowed in displeasure. Arthur replied,
“I’ll have him capture the heart of that man’s only daughter. If we can win her trust, we’ll have that man on a leash. He won’t have the guts to harm someone his daughter trusts. Once we clear that hurdle, his safety will be, for the time being, assured.”
“His daughter, you mean Elaine. Don’t tell me you’re taking her hostage…”
“Hostage, now that’s an ugly word.”
Arthur said this jokingly, a dry smile playing only on his lips.
After leaving the Senior Technocrat for dead, you have some nerve, Patrick muttered to himself.
“Well then, until we meet again. Lerner, you can get the details of what comes next from Lucan.”
With those final words, Arthur vanished from the Director’s Office in an instant. Leaving behind only a wisp of black smoke, he disappeared. It was like a magic trick, a teleportation, or the act of a ghost.
“…?!”
While Patrick was stunned by Arthur’s sudden disappearance into smoke, Director Bradford seemed unfazed, his expression calm. Seeing the shaken Patrick, the Director cleared his throat. He then drew Patrick’s attention and said,“Lerner. There is something I wish to give you.”
With that, the Director opened a drawer of his desk and took out a thick, old book and four terribly worn-out notebooks that looked as if they might fall apart at any moment.
One book and four notebooks. The Director handed them to Patrick. But Patrick, unable to fathom the Director’s intentions, tilted his head as he accepted them. The Director then began to tell the story behind the books to the bewildered Patrick.
“Richard, he was a friend of mine. About thirty years ago. He was working as a neurologist in Boston when he called me one day in a state of excitement. He said that a truly interesting young man had appeared before him. According to him, the young man was undocumented, had no memory of himself, was extremely short-sighted, hated bright lights, hated all kinds of music, hated other people, spoke little, and was completely withdrawn. When he was brought to the emergency room, he was covered in injuries, looking as if he had come straight from the battlefields of Europe.”
“…”
“But this young man possessed a special ability. He behaved as if he could see a few minutes into the future, Richard told me. Intrigued, Richard ran a series of tests on him. He examined his brain, conducted simple experiments, and so on. As a result, he seems to have been thoroughly disliked by the young man.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“The young man who could see the future. That was the now dying Senior Technocrat Varlozzi. And Richard’s daughter, Bridget. She was the Senior Technocrat’s wife and Elaine’s mother. —And this book was written by Richard, and the notebooks are a collection of Bridget’s observations about Senior Technocrat Varlozzi.”
“—What?!”
Patrick was genuinely surprised by the Director’s words. In fact, he could do nothing but be surprised.
Why does the Director have such things? And why is he giving them to me? The questions and confusion were endless.
Director Bradford then looked directly into the eyes of the stunned Patrick. With his dignified, dark eyes, he captured Patrick’s gaze and said,
“These are all heirlooms without an owner. The family showed no intention of accepting them, so I have been looking after them until now. I am entrusting them to you. From now on, the knowledge they have left behind will be of use to you.”
A VIP hovering on the brink of death, and his daughter, Elaine. A know-it-all Noemi who had interrogated Patrick on the way back. The cold stares from the VIP protection team. The frequent calls from the ASI demanding a situation report. The man in black, Arthur, whose thoughts were a complete mystery, and Director Bradford, who, while grasping something, would not provide the crucial pieces. And Patrick himself, dragged into the confusion without understanding anything.
The situation could only be described as chaotic. But Patrick did not have the luxury of calmly analysing it.
“...Hah, I’m so tired…”
Physically and mentally exhausted, completely drained of energy, Patrick returned to his apartment with the luggage entrusted to him by the Director. He inserted the key into the lock of his front door and turned it with a click. He then pulled out the key, turned the doorknob, and opened the door.
Stepping inside, Patrick first checked for any presence. But there was no sign of any intruder, no sign of Eileen. And no stink bugs. Relieved, Patrick let out a sigh of relief.
“…Phew. I hope I can get a quiet night’s sleep tonight…”
Once inside, Patrick carefully locked the front door. Praying that the intruder Eileen would not reappear in his kitchen the next morning, he went to the kitchen, quickly washed his hands, and moved to the living room.
He placed the bag containing the items from the Director on the sofa, then went to his bedroom and opened the closet. He took off his jacket, hung it on a hanger, and closed the closet door with a soft click.
Returning to the living room, Patrick sat down on the sofa, taking care to make as little noise as possible.
But the shabby sofa, which had been there since he moved in, creaked even under his light weight. Frowning in annoyance at the squeaking sofa, Patrick reached for the TV remote—at this time, the ANS station would be broadcasting the news. He operated the remote and turned on the TV.
Just as an image appeared on the screen, the landline phone began to ring. Patrick got up from the sofa he had just sat down on and answered it.
He put the receiver to his ear, about to give his standard response. But before he could speak, Noemi’s voice, like a scream, assaulted his ear.
‘Rickey, look at the TV! The ANS station, quickly!!’
“Noemi, don’t shout down the phone!”
Patrick operated the remote he had brought with him and switched the channel to ANS. It was the familiar weeknight news programme. And in the top right corner of the screen, the word ‘BREAKING’ was displayed.
What’s the matter with the news? Patrick, who had not been paying proper attention to the programme, tilted his head and tried to listen to what Noemi was saying. Then, her high-pitched voice came through the phone.
‘Eli Grissom’s execution was scheduled for this morning, right? But the plan changed, and it was suddenly moved to the evening. Then that bastard attacked a guard just before the execution and escaped!! On top of that, he made off with the anaesthetic, muscle relaxant, and potassium chloride that were supposed to be used on him! And he even stole a gun from the guard. So be careful!!’
“…Wait. What did you just say?”
‘There’s a breaking news alert, look closely! Eli Grissom has escaped!! We don’t know where he’s hiding, he hasn’t been found yet!’
Patrick looked at the news programme again. The text displayed under the ‘BREAKING’ in the top right corner was about a prison escape. And in the centre of the screen was a reporter standing in front of the prison where Eli Grissom had been incarcerated. The reporter on the TV was saying:
‘The whereabouts of the escaped death row inmate, Eli Grissom, are still unknown, and the Canberra Police, the New South Wales Police, and the ABoI are currently conducting a search. ABoI Special Agent Thomas Bennett, who is leading the search, said in a press conference that children under the age of fifteen should be kept indoors, and it is expected that a recommendation will be issued tomorrow for all educational institutions in the city to close. And the New South Wales Police—…’
Eli Grissom has escaped? Patrick could not believe his ears, could not believe his eyes.
Because that man had a low intelligence. He had been diagnosed as intellectually disabled in a psychiatric evaluation after his arrest. So he should not have been able to escape. He did not have the brains to plan such a thing. But Eli Grissom had escaped. It was actually happening.
Which meant someone had helped him escape. There was an accomplice, definitely.
“…Eli Grissom… has escaped…”
A reality that was hard to believe. To etch it into his mind, to make himself recognise it, Patrick chanted the fact out loud. And as he caught his breath, Noemi continued.
‘The psychoanalysts at the ABoI all said the same thing. That he had an accomplice. And that after escaping, the first place he would head would be to you, Rickey. It’s possible the accomplice has told him where you are. So be on your guard.’
“Understood. Hah… sorry, just a moment. I’m switching to the cordless phone now.”
Patrick switched the call from the landline receiver to the portable cordless phone and went out into the hallway. He then took out the pistol he had hidden in the underfloor storage in the hallway and turned off all the lights in the house. He also turned off the TV he had just switched on and moved to the bedroom, silencing his footsteps. He then quietly slipped under the bed, cocked the pistol, and aimed it at the bedroom door. He was ready to shoot the moment an intruder opened the door. —And then he heard Noemi’s voice.
‘Rickey, calm down and listen carefully. You’re at home now, right?’
“…Yes, I am. And you?”
‘I’m stuck at the command post. I don’t think I can make it over there.’
“…I see.”
‘So, have you turned off all the lights in the house?’
“…Of course.”
‘Are you unarmed? Or are you armed?’
“…Just one pistol. Five rounds. Not much.”
‘It’s better than nothing. So where are you now?’
“…Under the bed in the bedroom.”
‘Right, I understand. Keep the phone on, just in case. I’m sending a tactical unit over there now. You just have to hold on for another fifteen minutes, you can do it.’
With those final words, Noemi ended the conversation. Patrick stood the cordless phone up on the floor, pointing the mouthpiece towards himself.
In the meantime, a cacophony of voices could be heard faintly from the cordless phone’s speaker. The sounds gave a sense of the situation at the command post where Noemi was.
The authorities were likely gathering witness information from the public to find the escapee. The sounds suggested that staff were busy answering a constant stream of phone calls.
Patrick held his breath, tensed his stomach muscles to steady himself, and quietly placed his finger on the trigger. He then closed his eyes and listened intently to the sounds around him.
“…”
Next to his bedroom was his neighbour’s bathroom. He could faintly hear the constant shhhh of the shower hitting the bathtub.
A family of four lived on the floor above, and above his bedroom was apparently the children’s room. He could hear the voices of a four-year-old sister and a two-year-old brother playing, and the noisy thudding of their feet as if they were playing chase.
And on the floor below lived an old couple going through a rough patch. They seemed to be having a domestic argument. ‘Why don’t you clean the toilet after you’ve used it?’ ‘I do!’ ‘No, you don’t, there was a big one left in the bowl!’ Their trivial dispute could be heard through the floor of Patrick’s bedroom.
Fortunately, for the time being, there were no strange noises. Patrick relaxed a little and opened his eyes.
—And at that moment, he heard footsteps in front of his apartment door. Followed by the sound of the front door being opened.
“…”
Has the tactical unit arrived early, or has that man finally come? Patrick tensed up again, gripping the pistol tighter. Then, he heard the out-of-place, overly cheerful voice of a woman.
“Patrick? Are you there? The kind and wonderful Eileen has brought you pizza. Rejoice. A margherita with plenty of basil, and a bismarck with a soft-boiled egg. …Huh, that’s strange. He should be home by now.”
The voice belonged to Eileen, back with pizza. What terrible timing, Patrick grimaced. But he could not come out from under the bed, nor could he call out to her. Cursing under his breath, he just prayed that nothing would happen.
But the worst-case scenario unfolded. Just as Eileen switched on the hallway light and placed the pizza boxes on the dining table in the living room, she said, “Ah, the front door. I forgot to lock it…”
You’ve got to be kidding me, not now. —Patrick grumbled to himself, but his thoughts did not reach Eileen. Seemingly oblivious to the situation outside, she showed no particular caution and sauntered back to the front door. And just as the sound of her trying to lock the door was heard, it happened.
From the direction of the front door, a man’s hee hee laugh and rough, restless footsteps could be heard. The thudding footsteps sounded very heavy. Immediately after, Eileen’s scream was heard.
And hearing her scream through the phone, Noemi’s voice came from the cordless phone’s speaker.
‘Rickey, what happened?! Whose scream was that?!’
“…A female colleague of mine.”
‘A colleague? Weren’t you home alone?!’
“I was until a minute ago. But she came at the worst possible time. And now he’s here too, Eli Grissom.”
‘Eh? What do you mean?’
“…I’ll explain later. I’m going to help her. Get the tactical unit here faster!”
Patrick spat the words into the cordless phone and clicked his tongue. He then slid out from under the bed, pistol in hand.
He went out into the hallway, where he had heard Eileen’s voice, and pointed his gun at the large man who was trying to restrain her from behind. And Patrick shouted in a loud, intimidating voice.
“ABoI, put your hands up!”
Strictly speaking, he was no longer a member of the ABoI. But the words had come out naturally, a habit from his previous job, and for a moment, Patrick regretted it. At that moment, Eileen moved.
The man, surprised by Patrick’s sudden appearance, froze for a moment. Eileen did not miss the opportunity—she bit the arm of the man who was holding her. The man flinched at the attack, and in that instant, Eileen broke free and fled. As she took refuge behind Patrick, she shouted,
“Sir, now!!”
Immediately after, a rod shot out from the forehead of the man, who was writhing in pain from Eileen’s bite, and blood spurted out. Blood splattered on the wall of Patrick’s hallway, staining the simple yellow wallpaper with a gruesome, slasher-film-like pattern.
The large body of the man, bleeding from his head, fell forward, and with a heavy thud, there was a metallic clang.
Patrick lowered his pistol and looked down at the fallen figure. And he could not help but mutter,
“…Whoa, an iron pipe…”
An iron pipe, stabbed from the back of the head, through the skull and brain, and out through the forehead. Just as Patrick understood that this was the cause of death, the person who had carried out this gruesome hunt came into his view.
Standing there, having concealed his presence so well that it was impossible to know how long he had been there, was the man in black with his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses, Arthur. Standing in front of the closed front door, he looked at Patrick and the others and asked just one thing.
“You okay?”
Arthur’s voice was so curt, it was as if he were talking about someone else entirely. There was no hint that he was genuinely concerned for their well-being, and he seemed to feel nothing about the ‘murder’ at all.
Finding Arthur’s behaviour suspicious, Patrick lowered the hammer of his pistol, disarming it. He then replied,
“Yeah, well. We’re okay.”
“Good. Glad to hear it.”
Arthur’s voice was still unnaturally robotic, completely devoid of emotion. But it seemed that he was not entirely without feelings.
His eyes were hidden by sunglasses, so Patrick could not read what he was looking at or thinking. But from his frowning eyebrows and his profile, Patrick sensed a certain emotion. It was contempt.
At that moment, Arthur was looking down at the corpse on the floor as if it were filth. He seemed to be despising the man he had just killed—the escaped convict, Eli Grissom. …But it seemed that was not the only target of his contempt.
“…So this is the infamous ‘Da’at’ style of retribution. Truly distasteful…”
The words Arthur muttered under his breath seemed to be his true feelings, his voice laced with a strong sense of disgust. It was a world away from his earlier robotic acting.
Da’at, retribution, distasteful. Patrick did not understand the meaning of the words Arthur had used, but he did not press him for details. Instead, he just asked, “The tactical unit will be here in ten minutes. How should we handle it?”
“Play dumb. I’ll talk to the ABoI myself. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Reverting to his robotic acting, Arthur said this and then vanished in an instant, as if melting into the air. After watching him go, Patrick looked down and sighed. He then grumbled,
“…It’s all well and good to say play dumb, but…”
“Sorry, Patrick. Sir can be a bit careless and unreasonable at times. But please, try to cover for him somehow.”
Eileen responded to Patrick’s grumbling. She then added a complaint of her own.
“He seems like he’s thinking things through, but he’s not, but then he gets all worked up thinking about difficult things by himself, and then he becomes listless and apathetic. I just don’t get him. One minute he’s being kind and considerate, the next he’s being cold and distant. It’s like you can’t get a handle on him.”
“Is that so…”
“The only one who understood him, Jasper, is dead. The rest of us don’t know how to deal with him.”
Jasper is dead. …Another story Patrick did not understand the background to, but again, he did not press for details. He just nodded along, pretending to understand, and deliberately let the conversation go over his head.
Noticing Patrick’s lack of interest, Eileen changed the subject. She pointed to the living room and asked,
“Anyway, while we wait for the police, you want to eat some pizza?”
“Next to a dead body? I think I’ll pass.”
Eating pizza next to a dead body. After an experience like that, he would probably never be able to eat pizza again. Patrick immediately refused the offer. Eileen, on the other hand, said, ‘I’m hungry, so I’ll start without you,’ and headed towards the living room.
“…”
Watching Eileen calmly eat in a room where a murder had just taken place, Patrick stood by the body. Finding it strange that the person he had just spoken to a day ago was now a silent lump of flesh, Patrick waited for the tactical unit to arrive.
The tactical unit arrived surprisingly quickly, five minutes after Eileen had started eating her pizza.
Ten minutes later, Noemi and the others from the ABoI also arrived at Patrick’s home, the scene of the crime.
“Did you… do this?”
Noemi asked as soon as she saw Patrick standing by the body. But Patrick shook his head. Noemi then pointed to Eileen, who was being questioned by another investigator—she was still calmly eating her pizza. But Patrick shook his head again. Frustrated, Noemi said, “Then who the hell did it?”
“Maybe a Kamikaze blew through?”
Following the example of the careless and casual Arthur, Patrick also played dumb with a robotic voice. Noemi then pinched his soft cheek and pulled it away. With a suspicious look on her face, she asked,
“…Rickey. What are you hiding from me?”
“I have plenty of secrets. It’s the nature of my work, I can’t disclose most of them.”
“When we met at the hospital this morning, too. You knew something, but you were keeping quiet about it. Hey, what are you hiding? Or are you in some kind of trouble right now?”
But Patrick just smiled and kept his mouth shut. Exasperated, Noemi looked away. She then looked at the body of the man being carried away on a stretcher and changed the subject.
“Anyway, I guess this ends your feud with Eli Grissom.”
“…”
“Say something, Rickey.”
“…I wish it would end with this.”
Patrick turned his back on Noemi and headed towards the living room where Eileen was. He picked up the bag he had left on the sofa and left his home, now a crime scene.
Clutching the bag that had narrowly avoided becoming evidence, he walked, rummaging inside for his car keys. He then set off for the car park, his shoulders slumped from the terrible day he had had.
“...Hah, I’m so tired.”
To be forced into a job he did not want, and then to go through all this in just two days!
Suppressing the urge to scream into the night, Patrick trudged down the apartment stairs. As he descended, he debated whether to stay at a motel or spend the night in his car.
“…”
But the worst period of his life had only just begun. At that moment, Patrick had no idea that things were about to get much, much worse.
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