Ch.221The Twilight of the Fourth Idol – Cannibalism (3)

The Duke’s Mansion of David Ross, also known as Jeff, couldn’t easily accept what the high-value asset he had trusted said. Despite having the opportunity to escape, he refused to run.

It was such a serious statement that one of Jeff’s superiors who had decided on the Skinwalker’s disposal looked at him as if to say, “Isn’t this enough to be considered insubordination?”

It wasn’t actual insubordination. Jeff would naturally have been willing to handle Arthur himself if it became his responsibility. And now, it seemed like that time had come.

Even trying to be understanding, the words that followed sounded to anyone like he was threatening to carry out the same massacre in Charleston that he had committed at Madeline’s Lot, or at least suggesting he might. It was a threat.

Clearly, the Arthur Murphy that David had known wasn’t the type to do such things. He wasn’t that stupid. Killing people in Charleston would only earn greater hatred from the federal government.

Even if he just ran away, the federal government would clearly try to eliminate an agent who knew too much about the Madeline’s Lot massacre. Running away would have given him at least some chance of survival.

Was there a third possibility? Jeff couldn’t imagine one. There were only two options: die or run away and survive. No matter how much one disliked running away, who would choose the former?

Jeff spoke into the communication channel with the sensation of coughing up blood. This was something he had handled before. The last corporate freelancer he hired had pulled a gun when he didn’t receive as much money as expected.

“Have all available agents in the Charleston branch on standby. We’re capturing the Skinwalker. Our best asset is no longer on our side… he needs to be eliminated.”

One of Jeff’s superiors who had wanted the Madeline’s Lot operation, watching him, spoke. These were people who weren’t even in Charleston. They were just connected to the Charleston branch via hologram.

“What did I tell you, Duke? I said you can’t trust corporate trash. We would have eliminated him anyway, but at least he took care of the cancer in Madeline’s Lot before betraying us.”

A more sympathetic superior spoke with a sigh. He knew there was no possibility, but even he hadn’t wanted this.

“It seems your personal opinion might be influencing you, Operations Director. Doesn’t it look like he’s resisting because you’re trying to eliminate a freelancer who successfully completed his job, just because the last corporate agent failed?”

The prickly superior argued with the sympathetic one. He was a thorough anti-corporatist. He got angry at the suggestion of trusting untrustworthy people, regardless of rank differences.

“What if he really starts shooting in Charleston? If you’re going to say ‘I was wrong’ only then, why not deploy the National Guard early and…”

“Would you have tried to kill him because ‘he knows too much’ even if he wasn’t from a corporation? Or would you have had him sign a confidentiality agreement and sent him back with enough money to live on?”

The prickly superior couldn’t answer. If he hadn’t been corporate, the latter would have been obvious. It was simply that the federal government hated corporations as much as corporations hated the federal government.

The Charleston branch agents began to move. Jeff felt things were getting increasingly twisted. He needed to reconsider what the agent wanted.

He… didn’t seem like someone with great ambition, yet simultaneously appeared to have great ambition. Though intuitively contradictory, that was exactly how Jeff had profiled him.

After several hours of silence, pain, and confusion, Arthur contacted Jeff again. The Skinwalker was mimicking a human voice.

“Jeff, I can trust you, right?”

Jeff let out a dry laugh. It was an inappropriate thing to say after turning someone’s insides out with his words. The line had already been crossed.

“You don’t have many better options.”

“Then, please come to the third floor of the Grand Sequoia Hotel. I’ve left Marcus Cavendish’s head there. The holographic garden outside the hotel is quite large; I have some things to discuss there too.”

“When?”

“In about an hour. I can’t meet someone while smelling of gunpowder from Madeline’s Lot, can I?”

While his voice echoed through the situation room, an agent brought Jeff a tablet. It showed surveillance camera footage from the reception desk of the Grand Sequoia Hotel.

The Skinwalker had indeed checked in about fifteen minutes ago. Jeff glanced at the surveillance camera, then couldn’t help but be somewhat startled to see the Skinwalker looking directly at the camera with a grin.

His car still showed as being at Madeline’s Lot. Though Jeff had considered the possibility he might abandon the car… it didn’t seem like he had seized a vehicle from Madeline’s Lot either.

How did he get here? Jeff nodded as he contemplated the problem that was gradually slipping from his grasp. He needed to go out and see. As his superior had said, there might be a chance for dialogue.

The floor plan of the Grand Sequoia Hotel appeared on the branch’s large screen. As the Skinwalker had said, there was a fairly large holographic garden inside the hotel building.

Holograms are just light. They obstruct vision but not severely. The meeting place the Skinwalker had chosen was an open area advantageous for snipers.

“Position snipers to eliminate blind spots, and have other field agents block all available exits. Snipers… are authorized to shoot as soon as the Skinwalker is spotted. Understood?”

The Skinwalker wasn’t a simple corporate agent. His learning ability and improvisation were excellent, and his infiltration skills were astonishing even to Jeff. That’s why they needed to be thoroughly prepared.

But at the same time… he was just one person. Subduing or killing him should be simple. Jeff believed this as he deployed his agents. Fortunately, this time Jeff had information too.

The Skinwalker was wearing an enhanced body that could jump several stories high. If they closed in from the ground, he could easily jump up to a window several floors up to escape the snipers and flee into the building.

And a space with many narrow corridors like a hotel would be a good hunting ground for the Skinwalker. It was better to block all accessible areas and prepare. It had been a while since Jeff had to think in three dimensions.

After finishing the agent deployment, Jeff prepared to leave the branch. Though he wore a bulletproof vest concealed under his clothes, he honestly didn’t think the Skinwalker wouldn’t attack him.

There’s no way someone who killed one hundred and thirty-two people at Madeline’s Lot just five hours ago would want to talk. Jeff muttered to himself. He had no intention of talking either.

After already declaring war, if he was calling him out to an open area for some pretense of dialogue, Jeff would use himself as bait to draw him out and have him sniped.

One by one, reports came in that deployments were complete, and decisively… a surveillance agent at the scene reported to Jeff with a somewhat relieved voice.

“We’re picking up a signal from a Belwether computational assist device inside. There might be quite a few ex-military using computational assists, but only the Skinwalker uses that Belwether special model. We’ve found him.”

“Location?”

“Still in his room on the third floor. You can approach.”

Is he really expecting to talk even after making that threat? Jeff pondered briefly. He considered the possibility that his personal opinion might be influencing him, as his superior had suggested.

It did seem like personal opinion might be involved. Though he had killed one hundred and thirty-two people at Madeline’s Lot, that was precisely the job Jeff had assigned to the Skinwalker. It was expected.

Still, the term “direct confrontation” was a risk factor. He didn’t seem interested in explaining himself, and he’d surely come armed, so it would be better to eliminate him.

“Good. Once his position is confirmed, instruct the snipers to fire immediately. Tell them to maintain radio silence and act on their own judgment. He can probably detect radio waves too.”

Jeff arrived at the Grand Sequoia Hotel in his usual disheveled appearance. He passed through the lobby and headed straight for the holographic garden. Jeff tried his best not to look up.

He shouldn’t appear to know the Skinwalker’s location. When he reached about the middle of the holographic garden, Jeff received another communication request. It connected.

“I didn’t really think you’d come out like this, Jeff.”

“I didn’t think you’d do something this insane either. Where are you?”

The moment he asked that question, a small explosion and the sound of air rushing out forcefully came from the hotel room where the Skinwalker should have been.

It seemed to be a smoke grenade. Thick, acrid smoke spread from the hotel room, obscuring the surroundings. It was one of the items prepared at the unmanned post. The Skinwalker is there. Jeff was certain.

And as if responding to that certainty, another smoke grenade flew from inside the hotel room and exploded at Jeff’s feet. I should have skipped providing smoke grenades, Jeff thought as he was drawn into the smoke.

There was movement in the smoke. From above to below. He jumped down. The Skinwalker moves almost silently. His voice began to flow from within the smoke.

“Since I don’t think you brought thermal imaging… I’m here. We have enough time to talk a bit, right?”

A red visible laser used for zeroing infrared target designators touched Jeff’s forehead and then moved away. The smoke would clear in a few minutes.

Until then, he just needed to have that so-called “conversation” the Skinwalker wanted and wait for the snipers to get their opportunity. Jeff took a deep breath and began what he had to do.

“I’ve never trusted someone who wants to talk while holding a gun, Skinwalker. Still, I am curious about why you’re boldly doing something this insane. What’s your reason?”

“There are several. I know too much, your superiors don’t trust corporate origins, and I dislike living on the run. Curious what I’ll do?”

“Yes. I’m quite curious what you’ll do after shooting me in the head, Skinwalker. Whatever it is, I don’t need to tell you that running would have been better, right?”

Jeff spoke toward the direction where the target designator had been pointed at him. A voice without particular tension came back from within the smoke.

“I guess so. If things had gone well, I’d be going home to spend time explaining to Eve how chilly February in West Virginia is, talking about work I never did.”

“Why suddenly mention your girlfriend’s name?”

“I can’t just say it’s for no reason, can I?”

“If you’re just looking to joke around, shoot me and get on with your business, Skinwalker. Want to play games? After creating this situation?”

Laughter came from within the smoke. The laughter moved. He seemed to be walking.

“No, no. It’s really not a joke or a prank. I’m actually going to do that. And even if it were a joke… it would be a rather serious one. Should I call it deception tactics?”

“Deception for what?”

“Deception to make you surround me. You know, Jeff. I can jump up three or four stories, grab on, and throw myself up.”

Deception to be surrounded. Jeff didn’t immediately understand the phrase. Given the number of personnel he had deployed for that surrounding, his confusion was understandable.

“Of course I know that. So should I tell you that I didn’t just set up a single layer of containment on the ground? You don’t seem to understand the current situation…”

“Yes, yes. So surrounding requires a lot of manpower. A branch—no, a division—with mostly office workers who were monitoring Madeline’s Lot would need to deploy almost all their field agents. Right?”

The moment he heard those words, Jeff felt a chill run down his spine. He moved his body, which had been still thinking a gun was pointed at him, to disperse the smoke. He reached out toward where the Skinwalker’s voice was coming from.

Something with a plastic texture caught his hand. It was a drone. The explosive delivery drone from the unmanned post was flying with two smoke grenade pins, a target designator, and some unidentified device attached.

And Jeff… heard his own voice coming from the drone. It was Jeff’s own voice password that had allowed the Skinwalker, Arthur Murphy, to pass through Charleston Airport.

“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth as their corporation.”

After that, the Skinwalker’s voice was heard again. A distinctive cheerful mechanical sound rang once as identity verification was completed at the branch. The Skinwalker was in the Charleston branch.

“All that useless talk was actually serious, Jeff. It took about 30 minutes, but you don’t need to come back so quickly. You know, right? That I’m not the type to do anything dangerous.”

Arthur ended the connection with the drone as he heard Jeff shouting at the agents on site to return to the branch immediately. He walked down the quiet corridors of the Charleston branch where he had received training.

Jeff’s warning that the Skinwalker had infiltrated the branch was already being issued in the situation room. He really is quite capable. Arthur muttered to himself before examining the situation room. He checked the holograms.

Whether corporate or federal government, the higher-ups seemed equally immobile. The only people higher than the agents physically present were those two who had only sent holograms.

At the sound of the situation room door opening, the drone with the hologram projector turned its body to face Arthur. The sympathetic superior’s hologram spoke to Arthur.

“David Ross will be here in less than 15 minutes, not 30. How do you want to use those 15 minutes, Skinwalker?”

“I’m going to tell you that I’m not the monster Skinwalker you think I am, but Belwether-certified freelancer Arthur Murphy.”

Jeff’s prickly superior interrupted Arthur’s words.

“Why does that matter? This is just a case of branch security being breached by corporate trash.”

“I guess that introduction covers both of you. By the way, would it be less important if someone living on federally owned land used the same method to infiltrate?”

“A security breach is a security breach, corporate dog.”

Arthur shrugged. He didn’t particularly mind the slur and laughed it off with a good-natured smile.

“My call sign at Belwether Security Training College was Alsatian, and when I worked at Belwether, it was Shepherd. I grew up to be a fine sheepdog protecting the sheep I led.”

Seeing the prickly superior’s hologram contort his expression in irritation, Arthur continued as if it were natural.

“Don’t worry, the fact that you made me speak like an old sage from a 5-year-old’s moral tale is more insulting. Now then… if you had assigned this job to a federal agent, would you have eliminated them afterward too?”

The prickly superior didn’t respond, as if caught off guard. As Arthur said, it was a trite and ordinary statement that might appear in a 5-year-old’s moral tale. It was something he had heard before.

“No, you wouldn’t. Isn’t it obvious who’s smearing the faces of nationalists? Even Belwether’s anti-nationalist propaganda would use a smarter character than you.”

Arthur deliberately threw out a more insulting statement than intended. Then, the sympathetic superior intervened. By unleashing insults, Arthur had handed over the authority to resolve the situation.

It was something he had learned at Lone Star Rangers headquarters when resolving Belwether’s coup. As an outsider, one shouldn’t talk too much. Resolving the situation should be the role of insiders.

“I understand what you’re saying, but you’re going a bit too far. As you said, the discussion about whether eliminating someone just for being a corporate agent is excessive was already happening. What do you think, Operations Director?”

“Corporate dogs can’t be trusted. Isn’t that why he came here, thinking the same?”

“Am I the only one who sees that he didn’t think the same, completed the job, and came to end this quietly through dialogue instead of exposing everything?”

The Skinwalker operation was successfully completed. The Old Road truly disappeared into the annals of history in just three weeks, and the federal government appeared to have no involvement in the matter.

“It does seem like he chose symbiosis over mutual destruction, knowing he would be eliminated…”

“Then let’s choose symbiosis too. Let’s be reasonable. Regardless of the operation, this is a major security risk situation, so I’ll take command. You have no objections, Operations Director?”

Arthur’s simple thought was that if he was going to be eliminated because of Jeff’s superior’s intentions rather than Jeff himself, he would try to persuade that superior, but thanks to a superior who was more reasonable than expected, the conversation became simpler.

Indeed, not every organization is filled with stubborn, unreasonable people. Walter had been a stupid kid, but all the people at Belwether were good people. The same was true here.

The Operations Director nodded, hiding his displeasure. Naturally, the sympathetic superior’s hologram looked at Arthur and asked.

“Good. So, Agent Arthur Murphy. What do you think you should receive? I hope you’re not a stupid corporate agent who expects to be paid the world like last time.”

“Just the promised payment and a flight. I’ve learned so much from this job that I can consider that as additional compensation. Oh, and feel free to contact me again if you need anything. Through the proper channels.”

Business is business, and clients are clients. That was the extent of Arthur’s thoughts about the nationalists before him. That’s why he proved one thing to the person who appeared rational and had higher authority.

He proved that he himself would not become a variable. He proved that things could end as they should—by paying the problem-solver hired outside the law and sending him back.

The hatred of variables is a trait shared by those in high positions, whether nationalists or corporate, and that approach worked perfectly.

Thus, the Skinwalker, the perpetrator of the Madeline’s Lot massacre, the corporate hunting dog, arrived at Charleston Airport in a federal government courtesy car.

The news was already covering the Madeline’s Lot massacre. Despite already knowing the perpetrator and purpose, they were condemning it as a cowardly corporate attack aimed at worsening the federal government’s food situation.

The composite sketch they presented looked nothing like Arthur, and there were memorial articles stating that Deputy Sheriff Matthew Collins and several others had died trying to stop the terrorists.

Arthur thought that reality can be censored and truth can be manufactured anywhere. He didn’t shudder at the absurdity.

In about a week, it was obvious they would start condemning Marcus Cavendish, saying “He was actually colluding with corporations and engaging in conspiracies.”

Then Fabian, who had tried to reveal the truth, would receive proper respect, and Celine could finally mourn Fabian.

Arthur pushed everything else into the category of trivial matters. Having kept his promise to Celine, the only important thing now was returning to Los Angeles, to the night view and to Eve.