Ch.187Work Record #028 – Beautiful Enough to Make Your Eyes Ache (3)

It seemed like the time had come to confirm a rather important proposition. Is this incident related to the Transparent Eye? Probably so. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be such a close connection to the Non-Human Alliance.

If this proposition is correct… what’s the relationship between the Transparent Eye and the dead Belwether employee? His assignment was in a field far removed from information security or AI management.

Perhaps the Eye worshippers are becoming more radical in their search for the Transparent Eye. If so, many androids will die, and I must keep my true intentions hidden.

The Tinker’s drone wouldn’t be able to enter the Non-Human Alliance building right away. Modern buildings are often almost perfectly sealed to protect occupants from smog.

With filters even on ventilation ducts, it would be more natural to wait for the target to come out if one wanted to track them with an attached drone. The Belwether fugitive hurriedly exits the activity records room and disappears.

The detective’s expression changes. He seems to have noticed that the person who entered wasn’t actually affiliated with the Non-Human Alliance. He hesitates, as if unsure how to broach the subject.

“Well… shall we conclude our internal inspection for now? It wouldn’t be right to just give a superficial tour to someone showing interest in us. I’ll definitely invite you for a real visit next time.”

For a hasty conclusion, it sounds quite natural. I nod comfortably in response and exit the activity records room. The detective intends to pursue the man we just saw.

I spoke to him in two different voices. One voice vibrated through the air for him to hear, while the other penetrated only through the channel.

“I didn’t expect to earn complete trust from the beginning, so please don’t feel too bad about it.”

‘I’m not the only one thinking that following this man with the external surveillance drone attached to the window might lead us to the fugitive, am I?’

“Of course not, Boogeyman. And it’s quite creepy, by the way. How do you manage to say different things with your mouth and your head?”

I smiled as I briefly shook hands with the detective, again producing a sound different from what was visible.

‘Oh, don’t be like that. It’s just simultaneous thinking possible with a computational assist device. Isn’t this something anyone with a good computational assist device can do?’

“There are plenty of humans who aren’t suited for that, Boogeyman. You’re trying hard to appear harmless. From my perspective, you’re about thirty times more dangerous than Ruiner.”

I walk out of the Non-Human Alliance corridor. I bow slightly to the receptionist, thanking her for her help, while responding in my mind.

‘At least I don’t have the desire to dump scatter bombs on roads managed by Belwether. Oh, Ruiner. You know that carpet grenades and scatter bombs are basically the same thing, right?’

“That’s why you’re dangerous. If Ruiner kills even one person, it would be glaringly obvious, but you… you probably wouldn’t leave a trace until you’ve sliced up at least a hundred people. And if you’re charged, you probably have twice as many murders under your belt.”

‘Fortunately, while I have the skill, I lack the hobby. What’s the location?’

I get on my bike outside the building and wait briefly. The Tinker’s voice continues in my head.

“Seems like he hid in the bathroom to shake us off, then left through the back door. I confirmed his exit and attached a surveillance drone. I’m receiving location data, so I’ll follow at a distance.”

‘I’ll keep him in my sight and follow. He won’t recognize me with my helmet on, and there are things drones can’t detect that the human eye can.’

The Tinker let out another hollow laugh. One word of praise from a serious person is more pleasing to hear than a hundred words from a frivolous one.

“Alright, I’ll revise my assessment. You’re not just skilled at murder but also at dressing appropriately. Report if you notice anything unusual.”

Only then do I depart from in front of the Non-Human Alliance building, making a wide circle. After confirming there’s no tail following me, as per the Special Operations training manual, I speed up. I pursue the fugitive who had gained some distance.

While driving, communication returns from Il-Belly and Ruiner. It seems to have taken quite a while, but the quality of information was certain. It was enjoyable to work with such smoothly connected colleagues.

“This is going to be a big job, isn’t it? Ruiner! Forget what this old fart said and pack some bombs too! Looks like we’ll need to do some serious shooting! Are Boogeyman and Tinker armed?”

“Boogeyman is lightly armed. Since his body is Type IV, even one layer of bulletproof vest could be considered heavy armament… but he’s not in reinforced gear. What’s happening?”

Fortunately, I had brought a bulletproof vest, and my body’s performance was still unparalleled. Reinforced gear is bulky. I could move flexibly. It’s a minimal advantage, but I decided to mention it.

“A Type IV is considered armed even if he’s on his knees with his hands behind his head, Tinker. And, you investigated the Non-Human Alliance, right? I found a suspicious transaction between a Non-Human Alliance activist and the fugitive at Coco’s.”

A virtual screen appears in my field of vision, and I leave the driving to Chance. A Non-Human Alliance activist was trying to buy unverified information of minuscule size at an exorbitant price.

Coco had warned the activist several times that it might be a fraudulent transaction, but the activist still wanted to trade. Coco judged it to be a scam and blocked the transaction.

“If we’re lucky, this is a corpse trade; if we’re fucked, it’s a mercenary job. Of course, us working means we’re fucked. Shit! I’m extremely heterosexual, but everything I do is dick-related and fucked… just full of dicks.”

“Since you let me bring bombs, I should sympathize with you once, our poor, poor old master. But what does it mean if it’s a mercenary job? Do you know this fugitive? Does Belwether know too?”

A recording of Coco’s father’s conversation plays. Our fugitive’s name is Michael Pesikov. Judging by the surname, Mikhail Pesikov would be more fitting.

“Pesikov. What the hell were you doing about 10 years ago when the Technomancer Council was running wild that you don’t recognize the surname Pesikov? Weren’t you a mercenary then?”

“I was in 11th grade then? Not everyone was in their 40s ten years ago, old man. Judging by his voice, Boogeyman was probably in 5th or 6th grade then?”

Ten years ago, I was definitely in 6th grade. Il-Belly shared information through a virtual screen and then whined. The tailing was proceeding properly. They talk nonsense, but they’re not nonsensical people.

“Damn… I can see what you’re about to say, so don’t say another word, Ruiner. This is my last warn—”

“I didn’t think you wouldn’t expect me to say it! You’re fucking old, Il-Belly!”

I examine the materials Il-Belly provided. They were fugitives who inserted additional implants into dead people and uploaded AI into computational assist devices to ‘almost’ resurrect them.

They were notorious criminals known for instigating terrorist acts and then using the corpses, but they had already been annihilated through the cooperation of Market Keepers and several megacorporations.

Originally, they were a research team studying AI technology to make full-body cyborgs return to designated locations when they lost consciousness due to brain repository shock, but they researched something too dangerous.

The first test subject was a security team employee of a censored megacorporation. While he successfully returned to his home, the designated location… the AI couldn’t make proper judgments beyond that.

It deemed the security team employee’s family as threats and had no hesitation in using weapons. The user committed suicide with the pistol in his hand after regaining consciousness.

The second improved version was programmed to return to the security team locker room, but on the way back, it deemed other armed security team members as threats and was shot dead during the ensuing firefight.

As a result, the technology was scrapped, but the research team, unable to accept this, became obsessed with the research… and eventually became Technomancers. The project manager was Dr. Alex Pesikov.

It seems they spared the son, believing he was innocent, but apparently he secretly admired his father. Failing to distinguish between those worthy of respect and those who aren’t tends to make life miserable.

After Ruiner’s mischievous remark, a terribly brief silence follows. Only after confirming the materials Il-Belly sent does the conversation resume.

“So, those outdated Technomancers from 10 years ago are trying to make a comeback? If so, their method is stupidly inefficient. They’re using the same approach that got them caught before.”

Ruiner, who had thoroughly teased Il-Belly, spoke again in a soft voice. It sounds refined at first, but the occasional profanity or casual vocabulary reminds us that he’s a mercenary.

“If they have any intelligence, they wouldn’t do it exactly the same way. They’re probably trying to pull strings from behind the scenes, but I didn’t know Coco’s father valued personal information so little. Ha!”

Coco’s father also knew about Jerome’s original identity. He’s a man who understands very well that breaking trust a little can make himself safer.

The Tinker, who had been silent, spoke up. He knew exactly what it meant for Technomancers to be involved and how many troops Belwether would mobilize.

“So the involvement of Technomancers means the Non-Human Alliance guys are trying to resurrect the dead Belwether employee. The purpose is obvious. They want to infiltrate Belwether to find the Transparent Eye. Evidence, Il-Belly?”

“Is there bigger evidence than names and transaction records, Tinker? If we’re being conservative, sure, this Pesikov kid might just be trying to pull a scam…”

“I’m going to find the evidence, Il-Belly. You still remember the fugitive who fled from the Non-Human Alliance with android parts, right?”

The tailing was still ongoing. He visited several places but didn’t stay long anywhere and didn’t open the storage compartment under his bike seat where he had put the android parts.

This isn’t the destination. He’s just going around here and there out of habit, worried about being followed. When I shared my view to show the tailing progress, Il-Belly responded with a voice mixed with a sigh.

“That’s a relief. And we can’t focus only on this. Ruiner, I’ll send you the personal information of that Non-Human Alliance activist, can you kidnap him? Belwether won’t make an arrest without evidence. You know that, right?”

“We’re the people hired to do what Belwether doesn’t want to do. Of course, our old master. If we bring him in and open his lid, we’ll see what he was talking about.”

The net is becoming more precise. It wasn’t bad having Il-Belly, with the longest experience, take command. For someone being called an old fart by Ruiner, he’s quite open-minded.

“Tinker, join up with Ruiner to make sure he doesn’t mess around. Boogeyman, come with me. It’s my side, not you, who has fought Technomancers before. Any suspicious parts during the tailing?”

I naturally move next to the fugitive with the android parts whom I was following. He glanced at me but didn’t recognize me. Few people believe that someone stopped next to them at a traffic light is tailing them.

From now on, I should only answer in my head. The fugitive beside me wasn’t wearing a voice module, so he had to speak with his mouth, and no matter how quietly he spoke, Type IV hearing could pick it up.

‘There hasn’t been anything suspicious yet. He stopped at several stores to avoid being followed, but that’s about it. He seems to be communicating with someone now. Let’s listen together.’

“Ah, that. Since there doesn’t seem to be any tail, fuck! Stop going in circles and let’s meet quickly! I’ll be screwed too if this goes wrong, so why are you going around in circles? Where are you? Huh?”

It seems he wasn’t circling around of his own will. They seem to have prepared a lot to pull strings from behind, but well-planned schemes often collapse due to careless, stupid details that weren’t given enough attention.

In this case, it was not providing a voice module to their fugitive underling. Boogeyman naturally entering the Non-Human Alliance and encountering him was an unpredictable variable.

I couldn’t hear the other person’s response in my head, but I could infer enough from the parts thief’s voice. From here on, I needed to be careful. My plan could also collapse in a stupid, careless way.

“Don’t tell me about the next location this time. I’ll go straight there. It’s within 5 minutes.”

‘Il-Belly, if you can launch a drone, please do a reconnaissance from a high position. He seems to be heading to his destination now, and if someone enjoys pulling strings from behind, they’ll be watching from a place with good visibility.’

“Right, and then they’ll say something like, ‘Foolish one, you’ve brought a tail,’ and blow this underling’s head off with a sniper shot. Alright. I’ll do the reconnaissance. I’ll report to Belwether the moment we find Pesikov.”

Among the assets currently available to freelancers, the most convenient and efficiently usable one was Belwether’s support. We were currently backed by Belwether.

Thanks to the Tinker’s drone attached to him transmitting his location, I could approach comfortably. It seemed like I might need to do some major shopping soon.

The other freelancers were showing how efficiency could be increased with just the use of minor drones or a few pieces of unbreakable equipment. These were like model answers for me.

Il-Belly’s reconnaissance drone signaled that there was no problem, and the fugitive I was following on a different road stopped at the parking lot of an ordinary shared office. I parked my bike on the roadside and got up.

The best place to hide a person is among other people. Soon, a heavy vehicle followed him into the shared office parking lot. A mercenary in a shabby suit carrying a bag got out of the car.

It must be Il-Belly. Though his suit was shabby, one could vaguely tell that the implants on his most modified facial area were expensive. He greeted me with just a nod of his chin.

I share my view over the communication channel. Il-Belly soon shared his view as well.

We split into two and enter the office building through the front and back entrances. Il-Belly now starts speaking through a voice module.

“I’ll scout the emergency stairway area with drones. Pesikov’s kid chose the meeting place well. But if he wants to hide among people, he won’t just hide; he’ll be using an office. And to make escape easier, it’ll be on a lower floor.”

Inside the shared office, there were still quite a few office workers working overtime. Faces tired from extra work, the sound of anxious desk tapping, and the smell of coffee in the air.

We had to find suspicious rustling among this bland everyday scene. It’s always been like this, and this time was no different.