Ch.52Request Log #007 – The Weight of Life (2)

The unpleasant smell of salt and fish was faintly noticeable on the street, and it wasn’t far to the docks. The guns in the duffle bag kept making clicking sounds.

“First, listen to the plan. Plan one, no matter what happens, don’t directly confront the War Spirit. If we just kill the contractor, it’ll just stand there doing nothing, so find the one giving orders to the spirit.”

I had no desire to face, let alone confront, a spirit with a machine gun for a head. Anyone who knows what it feels like to make eye contact with a machine gunner would feel the same way.

Besides, spirits fundamentally possess free will and emotions. War Spirits were somewhat twisted, but they were generally docile when not under contract.

They would fire their head-mounted machine guns at anyone in military uniform who approached, but otherwise they would stand in one spot for hours, days, months, or years, unresponsive to any stimulus.

They would remain standing even as storms ravaged them and their bodies fell apart. I’d heard that European priests made it their business to travel to old battlefields to bury War Spirits.

If the contractor tried to avoid detection by not giving orders, the War Spirit wouldn’t move, and bullets traveled faster than spoken commands.

“And plan two, don’t kill anyone except the one contracted with the spirit. So far we’re just dealing with illegal immigration and one murder. It’s better to capture them and make them talk.”

Yehoel snickered, recognizing that “better” obviously referred to the payment.

“Hey, hey. Unless it’s something serious, are you planning to interrogate them yourself and make this into something bigger? Well, if a War Spirit has come all the way here, it’s probably not a small matter anyway.”

“When someone hires me for a job, if I don’t pick the fruit myself, the situation usually ripens and rots until it’s about to fall. What’s my job? To pick it and leave half for the client…”

“And devour every last sweet drop of the other half. Yeah, yeah. I want to get promoted too.”

Yehoel had a chance at promotion, and I had money on the line. Desire drives us forward, forward… pulling us so hard we’d fall if we didn’t run.

We arrived at the docks and saw a small security booth next to the entrance where cars passed through. It wouldn’t be difficult to get in since I’d been in and out several times before.

I left Yehoel, who looked like an angel to anyone who saw him, behind a corner and approached the small security booth at the dock. The security guard, who had been resting with the window open due to the warm weather, got up and looked at me.

He was half-bald with a belly so large it was amazing he could stand and walk. He wouldn’t live long—he wheezed after walking just five minutes.

“Well, look who it is, the detective sir. Business at the docks again today… Ah, right. I should charge double today, huh? I think I know why you’ve come all the way here.”

“Someone died, I hear. I don’t have business with that person, but I’m interested in where they died. Is it still double for that?”

I took out my wallet and pulled out a ten-dollar bill, waving it at him. I never intended to settle for a five-dollar bill like when buying information from a kobold.

If the job was successful, payment would come from The Morrígan’s secret fund, so it didn’t matter whether I spent ten dollars or twenty here.

“Sure, sure. Why try to save money on a security guard’s side hustle? I’ll take you right there, just give me ten dollars.”

I placed the ten-dollar bill in front of the sneering security guard and pushed it toward him. He smiled with satisfaction and, with an “oof,” barely managed to lift his fat body.

I snapped my fingers twice, and Yehoel, who had been hiding around the corner, walked over. The security guard let out a phlegmy “huh” when he saw the angel.

“You usually work alone, don’t you? Why’d you bring a cop this time? If I’d known, I would’ve charged another ten dollars… tsk.”

“I brought a bullet shield since there might be shooting. Just lead the way. It’s too late to ask for more money now that you’ve already lifted that heavy body of yours.”

He closed the door of the makeshift security booth and pushed his back. Yehoel, who had quickly approached, spread his gold-crafted wings wide and added to my comment.

“Show respect to the representatives of the God-President, you irreverent bastard. You should be grateful we’re quietly letting you get away with taking money from detectives without arresting you.”

Nothing silences people quite like the scripture of the God-President, it seems. The security guard quietly waddled, leading us to a corner of the dock.

Walking for long seemed difficult for him; about halfway there, he just pointed to a distant spot as if to say “over there” and didn’t say anything more.

The dock scenery is quite repetitive. There are piers extending outward for ships to dock, and warehouses used by different companies in front of them.

I tried to recall the angle of the photograph from the area the security guard had pointed to. The first photo must have been taken standing on the pier extending toward the sea, looking from the sea toward the dock.

And the second one was taken coming out to the pier to check something in the blanket… Yes, I was looking for traces. There were bullet marks on a lamppost inside the dock. They were definitely from a machine gun.

Who would be taking pictures here when illegal immigrants were arriving? I nudged the security guard who was catching his breath and wiping sweat with a handkerchief.

“Who died?”

“Don’t know. Another detective like you. Someone hired him to wait for people arriving here. Said he was supposed to take pictures too, was complaining about how to use a camera… Well, he’s dead now.”

So he took money from that detective too. He had quite a talent for making everyone who wanted to sneak in come through the front gate.

And if he had to wait for someone to arrive, it means someone already knew that the War Spirit and three people would be coming.

Is there someone else involved in this besides The Morrígan? And if they knew the plan in advance… No, no. The one who had those photos was The Morrígan. It must have been The Morrígan.

She had beautiful black hair and a beautiful face, but looking at her face always reminded me of the Argonne Forest and the Great War—she must have been a war goddess who sensed the approaching War Spirit.

I don’t know for sure, but judging by the fact that she didn’t assign me to take photos, she must have received some favor.

I didn’t mourn the fellow detective. If I died, other detectives would think the same way and brush it off.

“Seems like a detective hired by the same client… must have gotten on their bad side. They threw him into danger from the start. Anyway, whose warehouse is that over there?”

I took out the photo and compared it with the background, confirming the pier where the War Spirit had been standing, then pointed to the large warehouse right in front of that pier.

It was large but old. The door was securely locked with chains, and the windows were so covered with dust and grime that sunlight could barely penetrate. It was clearly a place that hadn’t been used for a long time.

The security guard scratched his belly and shook his head.

“Let’s see, who used that… Ah, right. Probably the Germans. They couldn’t use ships during the war, and since the God-President was furious and seized everything, they haven’t been able to use it even now. Ha, I could change careers to become a detective, couldn’t I?”

I gave him a sarcastic smirk to show my disbelief, then headed toward the warehouse with Yehoel.

A cargo ship suddenly arriving at a pier in front of a warehouse that hadn’t been used for years, with illegal immigrants disembarking… It would be laughable to say it didn’t smell suspicious.

I quietly approached and first took out a rifle from the long duffle bag. If there really were illegal immigrants inside, it would be better to shoot first.

“Yehoel, fly up and check inside. We’re going in either way, but let me know immediately if there’s even one person.”

Yehoel nodded lightly, spread his gold-crafted wings, and flew up to the high windows of the warehouse. With his eyes flickering like flames, he pressed against the dusty window, burning away the dust to look inside.

“Well, a warehouse is just a warehouse. Nothing special. Definitely no people, and inside there are just a few pieces of cargo covered with tarpaulins… Want to go in?”

“Of course.”

Reassured by his confirmation that there were no people, I kept the rifle and bag on my back and jumped up lightly. I grabbed about halfway up to where Yehoel had flown, then climbed up using the gaps between the bricks of the warehouse wall.

It was about the same height as the factory wall I had jumped over last time. While supporting my body with one arm and trying to pull the window with the other, I noticed that one window to the side had no dust accumulated at the bottom.

Had someone tried to ventilate? It was clear that someone had been planning to use this warehouse again. I pulled the window open and pushed my body inside.

The interior was dark, but my eyes quickly adjusted to the darkness. It was a metal railing overlooking the entire warehouse interior, and it creaked with each step I took.

Inside, as Yehoel had said, there was nothing except for a few pieces of cargo covered with blankets. Yehoel, who had struggled to enter through the window I had opened, dusted himself off and lightly jumped down from the railing.

“We’ll check each one? Keep your gun ready. I’ll lift and check.”

I nodded briefly and raised my rifle. There was no guarantee that someone hadn’t hidden inside a cargo box after seeing us walking around. Illegal immigrants would be used to hiding in boxes anyway.

Yehoel removed the first tarpaulin. He easily inserted his fingers into the gaps of the nailed cargo box and tore out the nails… inside was luggage.

Several sets of clothes, quite a few books, two handguns, and even a submachine gun that Germans used in the trenches… Definitely not the possessions of someone who came to tour New York.

“Check the books and remove the bullets from the weapons, Yehoel. We might need to stake out here, and it’s better not to have any risks.”

I reached back briefly to close the window we had entered through. If there were signs of intrusion visible from outside, they would be on guard. Surprise attacks work best against unsuspecting targets.

Yehoel intensified the flames in his eyes and began reading through the books one by one. He seemed to be skimming through them after reading just a page or two, checking for any notes that might have been inserted, suggesting they weren’t important books.

“Just cheap propaganda written by some paranoid bastard. Something about survival of the fittest… being stabbed in the back, the spirit of the strong dwarf, that kind of stuff. Kindling material.”

“People who seriously believe in kindling are the most dangerous. One thing’s for sure—we’re dealing with political dissidents. Alright, next box.”

This box was about the same height as Yehoel. Again, he removed the tarpaulin, reached out to the nailed side of the box, and tore it off completely. As soon as he saw what was inside, Yehoel covered himself with his wings.

“What is it? Is it what we’re looking for?”

His gold-crafted wings could probably stop a few pistol bullets, but not enough to block a machine gun. Yehoel, who had reflexively shielded himself, moved his wings aside and nodded.

He stepped aside briefly to show what was inside the box. It was a War Spirit in fairly good condition. The machine gun on its head was clearly in working order, and it was breathing properly, its chest rising and falling.

They left the War Spirit here and went out? No matter how difficult it would be to take it out openly, it was strange to leave it boxed up like this. Perhaps they didn’t plan to do anything themselves.

Were they planning to sell the War Spirit to someone? There couldn’t be anyone in New York who would want to buy a War Spirit. Even gangsters wouldn’t want something like this.

They smuggled weapons and traded among themselves, but they didn’t deal in military-grade armaments. A War Spirit was closer to a weapon of war than just a weapon.

“They left even the War Spirit behind? Then… when they return, they’ll have neither the War Spirit nor weapons. Come up, it’s better to wait here in hiding.”

“What? You want me to come up without cleaning up the traces of our search?”

I nodded briefly. While it was better not to leave traces of entry from the outside, inside it was actually better if it looked like someone had been rummaging through.

“Scatter some of the contents from the luggage boxes and leave the boxes wide open. When they come in and see that, they’ll be startled, and whoever calls for the War Spirit first is the one contracted with it.”

“Oh, this isn’t your first time setting a trap. Good. Then…”

Yehoel lightly lifted the luggage box and scattered its contents on the floor. I thought there might be more weapons hidden at the bottom of the box, but it contained only personal belongings for staying here.

I couldn’t figure out their purpose. It seemed too sloppy if they came to kill someone, but too suspicious to be innocent. Capturing them to find out would be the quickest way.

I pressed myself against the wall by the entrance of the warehouse. If I had been sitting facing the entrance, I might have been visible from the light that would leak in when the door opened, but from this angle, it would be difficult to spot me.

Patience is truly the foremost virtue of a detective. While Yehoel sat with what seemed like a bored expression, I kept my gun aimed at the warehouse door. Today, I could finish the job with just one day’s pay.

After waiting for quite some time, something happened to break my concentration. From outside came the sound of someone gasping for breath, followed by someone pounding on the warehouse door. The knocking wasn’t very loud.

I thought they might be checking something before entering, but soon I realized it was the security guard who had let us in, calling out breathlessly.

“Detective! You bastard detective! Come out! Outside, outside, fuck, you need to see what’s happening!”

Why are you running all the way here and making a scene if you’re worried about being discovered? I didn’t understand the situation, but I hadn’t heard any loud noises outside. There was a possibility the security guard had tipped off the illegal immigrants.

“Yehoel, go out and check. I’ll cover you. Signal if there are illegal immigrants.”

“Hey, was I really just a bullet shield? Being born as a sturdy angel was my mistake, I guess. Fine. Just don’t put a bullet in the back of my head.”

Angels were incredibly sturdy anyway. He opened the window we had entered through, spread his wings lightly, and landed softly. Soon I heard his voice.

“There’s nobody here! It seems really important, want to come out for a moment? We don’t know when they’ll return, Husband.”

It’s annoying when work gets interrupted by something unrelated. I clicked my tongue once, then jumped lightly out through the open window and landed on the ground. The impact made a loud sound again, but there was no pain.

“What’s so urgent that you came running all the way here? I doubt you found anything, and I hope you didn’t call me for something trivial.”

“Just follow me! This fucking… I was just going to get some lunch when I noticed something strange on the street. Cars stopped, people all lying face down as if they’d fainted… So I, I tried to nudge them with my foot. I can’t bend down with this body, you know. But none of them responded!”

He knows himself well. I sighed at his story, which had zero credibility, and gently pushed his back to indicate he should lead the way. He waddled his plump body energetically, leading us out of the dock.

But his words were true. As we left the sparsely populated dock area and entered the street with restaurants and tobacco shops, we found people collapsed everywhere.

I approached an orc who had fallen right in front of us and checked his neck. There was no breathing, no heartbeat. He was dead.

Right. An unworshipped god wouldn’t hire a private contractor for something trivial, and the God-President wouldn’t dispatch an archangel for nothing. Something was definitely seriously wrong.