Ch.213Work Record #031 – Duty Record #003, Staying One Step Ahead (2)

“Is installing listening devices normal? I mean, you’re a police officer. Breaking into someone’s residence to do such things…”

“It’s absurd, but Madeline’s Lot is created and run by the Old Road. I won’t say you have to understand it… but here, such things can happen.”

Was that statement too experienced for a deputy who’d only been here for two days? I should probably refine it a bit. I need to appear twice as natural to Celine.

No matter how much I tried to help ordinary people like her, my actions in Madeline’s Lot would ultimately become betrayal. I was someone who couldn’t be genuine in this place.

Fortunately, she just looked at my face and let out a small laugh. She didn’t think badly of me or suspect anything. Even this much was something to be immensely grateful for.

“You sound just like… my brother. Since I was in my early teens, he’d say, ‘Celine, don’t panic. This too can happen. What matters is how it happened.'”

Every time she talked about her brother, I felt a warmth similar to when Serena talked about Ryland Winters. However, this wasn’t exactly a pioneer-follower relationship.

“Of course, he’d say that when he was digging around trying to find that ‘how’ and got himself in trouble, while I was worried about him. I wasn’t the type to hug my brother and comfort him. Can you tell just by looking at this?”

She showed me her mechanical arm, perfectly replaced from the shoulder down. It bore the mark of a unit that demolished factories with hammers. She must have gone after the people who hurt Fabian.

And… while replacing her forearm with steel was recent, she would have gladly proven that wanting to replace it had been a long-standing desire. I was starting to get a sense of what kind of person she was.

“I told him to take me along for this Old Road business since he’d get in trouble, but knowing it was dangerous, he headed to Madeline’s Lot all by himself…”

“It seems like he was looking for something, but even though the Old Road does some questionable things… it’s just a food production facility, right? What was he trying to find?”

She casually opened the car’s glove compartment, showing no interest in the gun inside as she rummaged through it. She seemed to believe there might be more listening devices.

They wouldn’t have touched the car. Looking at Ben, not everyone at the sheriff’s office was cooperating with the Old Road, and my car was parked in a visible spot at the station. No one had approached it.

Still, I waited for her to complete her own inspection. Only after she had examined behind the display between the driver’s and passenger’s seats did she speak. She seemed somewhat pleased.

“When I first met someone at Madeline’s Lot who talked like Fabian… oh, that’s my brother’s name. Anyway, I thought I’d met someone as smart as the smartest person I’ve ever known, but I guess not.”

Now she had mentioned the name Fabian. I knew her name was Celine Diaz. Now I could use the name Fabian Diaz without raising suspicion.

“Do you know that every time Madeline’s Lot rapidly expands its production facilities, the amount of drugs entering the US jumps? They’re doing something bad inside those hydroponic towers.”

She slammed her fist into her palm. The fact that she was a former soldier who openly displayed her modifications in this town… it seemed like just helping her might solve the Madeline’s Lot problem.

The issue was the Market Keeper. I needed to deal with the Market Keeper before she could even attempt to stir things up in this rural town. She let out a deep sigh before speaking.

“And when I was with Fabian, my job was to kick the butts of those bad guys. Even if I’m late this time… I still need to do that properly.”

Fabian was following the right path. If Harry killed him… then at that moment, Harry became someone better off not existing. The same goes for Madeline’s Lot and the Old Road.

Finding him would complete the evidence collection. After driving quite a distance from the Old Road’s hydroponic towers, I briefly parked in Madeline’s Lot’s modest downtown. We couldn’t just keep driving without a destination.

“There was no one named Fabian Diaz in the jail. Even if they’ve imprisoned him somewhere, it’s not at the sheriff’s office, and not in the Old Road’s hydroponic towers. I’ll look through the case files, but where are you staying?”

She shook her head briefly. I thought she might not want to tell me her address, thinking I was one of them, but fortunately, she wasn’t that suspicious.

“I’d like to sleep somewhere comfortable and safe, so let’s go to your place. I’m a modder, you know. I can check if there are more listening devices hidden.”

If Marcus Cavendish had boasted about being a modder, I would have laughed, but I didn’t want to laugh when Celine said it. It wasn’t said out of arrogance.

Modification isn’t about gaining incomparable superiority. It just makes many tasks easier and more efficient than others can manage. Modification is equal for everyone.

Opening your head to insert a computational assist device or removing an eyeball to connect a prosthetic eye is something anyone can do. Mistaking that for innate superiority is… fleshy thinking.

I didn’t expect to be quoting Vola. Anyway, someone’s home would be safer than a motel. Planning to sleep on the couch, I nodded and started the car again.

When we arrived at the house, Amaya was waiting. She was startled to see an unfamiliar woman getting out of my car. She fumbled with her food delivery bag, not knowing what to do.

“Ah! Um, Matt. You had company today? No, I mean… you two, uh, what? Should I, should I just go?”

Before I could explain, she sighed and waved her two prosthetic hands. She created a natural excuse and spoke on my behalf.

“Don’t misunderstand. I just arrived in town during these unsettling times, and when I mentioned how bad my motel accommodations were, Deputy Collins offered to let me stay for one night. And you are?”

“This is Ms. Amaya. I told you I’ve only been here for two days. When I first came to this house, she even gave me a small housewarming. Have you eaten dinner, or should we have this as a late-night snack?”

When I first found her waiting here, I thought she might just be a friendly local trying to welcome me, but now I was becoming more cautious. It seemed like she didn’t want to leave me alone during my personal time.

In the end, I entered the house with both of them. Should Amaya Hope be added to the death list? I needed to approach this carefully. People shouldn’t be killed just on suspicious circumstances.

The listening device was found under the dining table, and although I had dinner with Amaya… if they were going to use her to plant listening devices, they would have done it beforehand.

I was entering the house for the first time that day anyway, and there was no reason for them to install listening devices while facing me. For now, I’d just remain cautious.

That evening passed quite peacefully. Celine was someone who could fill the evening without talking about Fabian. Amaya returned to her own home late in the evening.

After Amaya left, Celine ran another radio frequency scan. I had already completely turned off my computational assist device, so there was no problem. She sighed with relief and said:

“You’re not so naive as to not be suspicious of a woman loitering in front of someone else’s house waiting for the owner to return, are you?”

“She doesn’t seem like a particularly social person. I thought maybe she just wanted to be attentive to a new neighbor… but I’m also considering that she might be Old Road surveillance personnel.”

Seeing that my level of caution was appropriate, she wasn’t too worried. She sighed deeply and started giggling.

“Or maybe she fell for the deputy in his early thirties at first sight, in this backwater town where the youngest man seems to be in his early thirties. Ah, don’t sleep on the couch. I don’t have a habit of kicking homeowners out of their beds.”

I wasn’t the type to… bring women around. Or perhaps it would be more honest to say I ended up not being that type? I decided to just say I wasn’t.

As Celine gathered the sofa cushions to make a comfortable arrangement to sleep on, I went into the bedroom. I waited until she fell asleep while she was searching for information about Madeline’s Lot.

Just after midnight, after seeing her breathing stabilize, I turned on my computational assist device. Watching my vision being overlaid with the net for the first time in a while, I connected to the secure channel with Jeff.

‘Good evening, Jeff. I’ve made some progress. I met a woman named Celine Diaz who’s looking for a private investigator named Fabian Diaz who disappeared in Madeline’s Lot. I think we can expect to secure evidence.’

“Fabian Diaz… He definitely did go missing in Madeline’s Lot. He was a man who was digging into drug cultivation, though I don’t know how he found out. If he discovered something, he’s probably dead, but you think it could still be evidence?”

‘Even if someone dies, evidence can survive. If I can prove he was killed by the Old Road in Madeline’s Lot, it would give me a reason to shed my deputy disguise.’

The possibility of using this to persuade the Market Keeper wasn’t very high. One death was important to me but not to the market.

Marcus Cavendish would argue that the drug business was inevitable for becoming a mega-corporation under the Nationalists, and he would make gestures of giving it up.

And the Market Keeper values only actions. If they could actually give it up, he wouldn’t care much. Fabian Diaz’s death was too insignificant to turn the Market Keeper around.

The way to persuade the Market Keeper was simple: reveal that I’m Arthur Murphy, not Matt Collins. Remind them of the amount of vigilance and attention the Nationalists are pouring into the Old Road.

If the Nationalists knew nothing and took no action, it wouldn’t be difficult for the Market Keepers to provide their approval and protection, quietly offering a seat at the mega-corporation table, but not in this case.

The Old Road is just a raw gem, a seedling. Creating unnecessary conflict with the Nationalists and Corporate Justice for a seedling that can’t even follow in Pharmer’s footsteps is market failure due to external factors.

And the Market Keeper corrects market failures. No matter what they are. They were people who would gladly commit suicide if they had fought to cause market failure themselves.

The Market Keeper is not favorable to anyone. They don’t hate anyone. Devotion to the market and hatred of market failure seem to be the only emotions they possess.

‘And the fact that the Nationalists are desperate enough to eradicate these drug dealers that they sent me undercover as a deputy will convince the Market Keeper.’

“Good. You’re really proving you’re a high-value asset, Skinwalker. Do you need any support?”

‘Please send me any information about Fabian Diaz or other private investigators. That should be enough. I’ll report again tomorrow.’

I ended the communication with Jeff briefly. Soon I examined the documents that arrived on my computational assist device. They were files containing personal information about Fabian Diaz and several missing persons.

While reading those documents, I connected to a communication channel with slightly lower security clearance. I connected with my alchemist. Mr. Enzo responded to the communication with a slightly surprised voice.

“Ah, Arthur? I thought you said you wouldn’t be in contact for a while due to work… Is something wrong?”

‘I need the cash alchemist’s magic. Could you get me two spare battery packs and a motorcycle with wilderness driving chains installed within a week? My current client isn’t very trustworthy.’

“You said it was a corporation under the Nationalists, right? There’s a high possibility they’ve been influenced. I’ll have to procure anonymously, and it will take a few days. Do you need anything else…?”

Living life, there are moments when you realize why Mr. Enzo is said to be the most reliable person after the boss. I sent him the coordinates of Madeline’s Lot. It was better to get help with detailed opinions.

‘I think I can somehow get to Madeline’s Lot with the means I have now, but I need a way to escape from here to a Corporate Justice-owned city. Where would be a good place to hide it?’

“In such wilderness… I’ll look into it for a few more days and contact you. There’s probably a place where truck drivers deal with wilderness gangs and pile up the remains.”

A tree should always be hidden in a forest. I trusted Mr. Enzo’s clean work. And I wasn’t stupid enough to hold back my gratitude to someone who was working hard for me.

‘Ah, now I can work with some peace of mind. I’m always grateful, Mr. Enzo. When I get back… I’ll even take on a personal request for free. Really.’

“If I could use a freelancer for free, that would be perfect. I’ll handle it with my money for now, and you can pay me when you return. Without leaving traces.”

Clean work until the very end. But wait, how much money does Mr. Enzo actually have? He clearly had enough to entrust him with hiding a motorcycle in Nationalist territory.

Could it be that his accounting job is just something he does to keep his skills sharp, while he’s actually a big shot in the underworld? After relaxing my mental tension with such idle thoughts for the first time in a while, I terminated the communication connection.

These days, the days are too long. After finishing the Skinwalker operation, I should rest more. I didn’t want to show signs of fatigue. Ms. Eve’s worried expression is painful to see.

No, actually, when she looks worried, she gives quite a fierce stare… but still, it felt wrong to be risking my life when she was worried enough to naturally give such looks.

I fell asleep feeling the softness of the bed. With only the alarm for the listening device I had planted in Marcus Cavendish’s room turned on, I concluded another day. I was getting used to mornings that weren’t hazy anymore.

Mornings in Madeline’s Lot are always the same. A slightly yellowish landscape, clear air, and a stillness that makes your body itch as if having an allergic reaction. No, it would be difficult to call it an allergic reaction.

A single bug called the Old Road was actually stirring inside my skin. Creating itchiness, irritation, and terrible sensations.