Ch.89Request Log #010 – The Missing Children (6)

I wiped the blood from my shield and checked my jacket thoroughly for any lingering gunpowder residue after attaching the silencer. Thankfully, just two shots hadn’t left my clothes reeking of gunpowder.

I’d gathered all the information I needed. Like when I was searching for the other detective who fled, I couldn’t search through all the affiliated companies, so I just took the ledger and the kidnapping coordinator’s documents.

Now it was time to leave naturally. With the gun hidden in my coat, I returned to the PR manager’s office. I casually sat in a chair outside the office and picked up a newspaper.

There wasn’t much news. It happened to be the newspaper where I’d placed my detective agency’s ad, with my small advertisement tucked away in the bottom left corner of the classifieds.

The ad wasn’t anything special… but I realized I shouldn’t lazily leave the ad copy to a journalist acquaintance anymore.

I’d asked for a clean advertisement saying “Private Detective, specializing in missing persons and various personal investigations.” Not “Solving your problems for $20 a day.”

Workers had come to me when I worked with Gremory because of this ad, and my current clients probably found me the same way, so maybe it was effective… but I still didn’t like it.

The journalist didn’t need to strain himself. I folded the newspaper and gently knocked on the door of the office where the interview was taking place. The PR manager came out with a puzzled expression.

“Oh, y-you’re that lawyer… What can I do for you? The interview is still in progress…”

His voice shrank when speaking to me, like a hostess asking for extra payment. Typical human. The kind who naturally cowers before larger people.

“The ogre who went to get coffee hasn’t returned. Besides, isn’t the building unusually quiet? Even at this hour, security guards should be around.”

I naturally stoked his anxiety. He shuddered as if feeling a chill up his spine, then returned to his office to grab his thin coat. He began stammering.

“W-well, I think we’ll end today’s interview here. I hope we can continue another time. P-please leave now!”

I should thank whoever put such a pathetic human in a mid-level position. The journalist walked out looking confused. She seemed to have conducted a thorough interview despite my time-buying tactics.

I tapped my coat to signal what I’d done. This time, she didn’t gasp loudly.

I walked out of the association building with the journalist. The guard who should have been watching the entrance was gone. I couldn’t tell if he’d heard the gunshots or if I’d killed the entrance guards.

“They were all involved. I handled them quickly and made it look like there was a third visitor besides us. And… information.”

I handed her the documents I’d taken from the lizardman’s office and the ledger, then got out of the car. I clicked my tongue a couple of times and shook my head.

“You probably want to read this now, but don’t. Guards might approach and see what you’re reading. I need to go back in to check a few more things…”

I checked my watch. Even the most incompetent human could find two corpses within 30 minutes. They weren’t so anxious that they wouldn’t check the annex building. They might have gone straight there.

The ogre I’d stuffed in the cleaning supply closet wasn’t in any condition to scream, so he might not be found until next week. By then, the whole building would reek of decay. Actually, it already did.

“I’ll be back in 30 minutes. Keep the derringer loaded. Can you drive?”

The journalist shook her head. Changing one’s mind doesn’t magically grant new abilities. I didn’t bother sighing.

“Wait here with a mana-infused light bulb like you did last time. If anything happens, run into the building and…”

“If I panic and call out ‘Paulina’ instead of ‘Michael,’ you’ll still help somehow, right? That’s the kind of person you generally are.”

Trust or weakness? She was my collaborator now, so I wouldn’t mock her.

“Don’t expect miracles from me. You don’t seem like someone who believes in them anyway.”

The journalist just nodded briefly. She knew exactly when I’d stopped believing in miracles. And she was right about that time.

After loosening my shoulders, I returned to the building. With no guards around, I could stride freely. Someone who’s seen a corpse develops tunnel vision and wouldn’t notice someone walking boldly.

The building was completely silent. Since there would be phones throughout an association building, I needed to figure out where everyone had gone. The annex was the most likely destination.

As expected, there were traces on the path to the annex. Footprints crossed over bloodstains from two security guards who had been shot in the head and dragged away. They hadn’t bothered hiding their tracks.

I quietly followed the traces without stepping in the blood. Shoe soles soaked in blood left marks leading down the stairs of the annex, and faint human voices could be heard from the basement.

I could tell someone was speaking, but couldn’t make out the words. Fortunately, I wasn’t wearing shoes with metal plates on the soles today, so my footsteps made no clicking sounds.

The basement had a straight corridor with few hiding places. From my two previous visits, I knew it was mostly empty space except for the lizardman’s office at the very end.

The faint voices now became panicked, almost screaming.

“H-ha, what exactly w-was the special order you entrusted to us that p-people keep dying! Today again, o-one person died… no, one disappeared and two died… At least explain something! W-what flaw? What flaw? We have a r-right to know!”

This person seems surprisingly uninvolved. Too incompetent and pathetic to be part of such a plan? Either way, he seemed to know nothing.

His panic at my mention of trouble was simply because the lizardman had died yesterday, people died today, and they were all somehow connected to this “special order.”

That made sense. So this rat-like human had nothing to do with the purpose of the request. I leaned against the office door and continued eavesdropping.

“G-go where? So… yes, yes. I understand. If I tell them about this… yes, yes! Our association always needs your support, Congressman. Yes, yes.”

I should follow him. I might be able to find the children before properly checking the documents. After hearing this, I quietly slipped out of the annex basement.

The PR manager would be coming out soon, and it was a straight line from here to the outside. I couldn’t make running sounds, nor could our paths cross. I opened a window attached to the first floor of the annex, jumped out, and returned to the car.

The PR manager hadn’t come out yet. I got in the car without needing to catch my breath, and the waiting journalist nodded with a relieved smile.

“Take out the notebook you used during the interview. The PR manager will come out soon, and we need to follow him. It’s better to have a reason for still being here.”

Disguises always had to be perfect. A detective disguised as a lawyer had to act like a natural lawyer with all his might.

The journalist hurriedly pulled out her notebook. In that short time, she’d written so much that the pages were filled with handwriting that looked like it belonged in a penmanship textbook.

Not long after we created this scene, the PR manager came running out. Seeing we were still there, he panicked and ran to the front of our car, gasping for breath.

“Huff, huff. Whew… W-why are you still here! It’s dangerous, so hurry, hurry and leave!”

He seems to be a better person than my first impression suggested. After saying this, he immediately went to the parking lot. This time, tailing him would be relatively easy. People with distracted minds weren’t difficult to follow.

We followed his car through downtown New York. I mapped it out in my head. Straight ahead there should be a hospital. And if we turned left, there would be a small orphanage.

The car turned left. Toward the orphanage. Did they think creating even a flimsy identity for the children would make things cleaner? If so, this might get more troublesome than expected.

After nearly 30 minutes of following his car, barely keeping from speeding, we arrived at an orphanage named after a saint personally canonized by the God-President. The journalist scoffed at the name.

“People these days really don’t know the word ‘shame,’ do they?”

“Few remember it anymore. I’ll drop you off at the public phone nearby so you can call that police officer you know. I’ll go in first.”

The journalist was useless in a fight anyway. She handed me the mana-infused flashbulb and nodded firmly. We each had our jobs to do.

After parking the car at the public phone, I ran toward the orphanage. I took out my gun from inside my coat, hiding it behind my shield. It was certainly useful to be able to openly carry such a piece of metal.

Unlike a typical orphanage, a burly orc and another lizardman were standing guard. They only let the PR manager in after checking his business card.

I didn’t think I could enter so easily… No, wait. I knew about the special order. I could just walk in confidently.

Since I wasn’t even slightly out of breath, I immediately approached the iron gate of the orphanage. The orc and lizardman moved to block the entrance.

“It’s almost bedtime for the children, and outsiders aren’t allowed. If you have business, please make an appointment and come back…”

I deliberately moved my shield to show my gun and barked at them. These types were weak against domineering people. I shouted loudly, then whispered afterward.

“You stupid bastards! That guy who just went in knows about the special order. Don’t you think there’s a chance that someone who wasn’t even involved in preparing the shipments might see what’s happening here and try to become a righteous whistleblower? Move. The Congressman said to handle it here since it’s quiet. Just keep other people from coming in.”

They moved away from the iron gate as if an electric current had run down their spines. Beads of cold sweat ran down the orc’s forehead.

“S-sorry… Please, hurry in.”

If we weren’t on the street, I would have turned around and shot those two in the head, but I had to wait until the police the journalist called arrived.

I ran into the orphanage building with my gun hidden again. I spotted the PR manager wandering around as if unsure where to go, and grabbed his shoulder.

“L-lawyer? W-what are you doing here? Could it be…”

“I’m a detective who pretended to be on their side to get in. I’m investigating missing infant cases, and the special order you’re suspicious about is exactly that infant kidnapping. The children seem to be here, so I shot and killed some people involved to follow you. It was quite enjoyable, so you don’t need to feel sorry. Now, walk in. Hurry.”

I grabbed his shoulder with one hand and poked his side with the silenced gun barrel in my other hand. There was no time to wait for him to calm down.

He quickly stiffened as he recognized the gun. The middle-aged man looked like he might burst into tears at any moment. Not my problem.

“I’m your lawyer. With a murder at the association building, it’s not strange for you to bring a lawyer to protect yourself. Now, do your job.”

Despite looking like he might cry, the PR manager walked into the building, and soon we reached a wooden door leading to the children’s room, blocked by a large man who didn’t fit this place.

His eyebrow twitched. He probably wouldn’t recognize the PR manager.

“Since they let you in from outside, you’re probably not suspicious, but what’s this? Are you the client? I mean, without photos of the high-ranking people, I can’t really…”

Instead of saying the person behind him was a detective, the PR manager took out his business card and handed it to the man, gripping it until it crumpled. The large man smirked.

His shaggy brown hair looked unwashed for days, and his unkempt beard grew wildly. His body seemed quite solid, but his face had sunken cheeks, and his proudly worn holster was covered in scratches from rough handling. He was a professional.

“Oh, what? You’re from the association? What brings you here? The special order merchandise is safe inside. If there’s some problem…”

“Y-yesterday Karim died, and today two more died and one vanished. About the special order, s-someone seems to have found out. They said if I delivered this message, your side would handle it…”

He stupidly spoke as if he knew what the special order was, and the shaggy-haired operative’s eyebrow twitched. He seemed to notice something off about the way the PR manager spoke.

“Ah, then we’ll have to dispose of all the kids and leave… But, hey. Want to hear something funny? I’m in charge here, and I’ve never seen you during this operation. Yet here you are, talking like you know all about the special order? You even brought a lawyer knowing it’s dangerous. Looks like information has leaked.”

He didn’t consider this pathetic man a threat either. Smirking, he put his hand on the PR manager’s shoulder and grinned.

“And I know how to be a good husband. Just need to plug the leaks, right? No matter which hole, once you plug the leaking hole, you get a happy home. Right?”

Giggling as if telling a hilarious joke, he drew his gun from his holster and waved it around, looking up at me. His narrowed eyes were still smiling unpleasantly.

“Oh, look at the lawyer here too. If this guy knew, you must know too. And lawyers don’t carry guns. You know what I mean? Just looking at your face, I can tell how hard your life has been. Such a deadpan expression. Ah, what a relief. Goodbye, difficult life. Isn’t that romantic?”

Today was just another repetition of the usual. He wasn’t aiming his gun, and I was already holding mine. I genuinely laughed at his words. I smirked.

“You think you know how hard it’s been? I’m not sure myself. Seeing you say that, you must have good insight. Don’t you think?”

At my laughter, the operative looked at me as if about to burst out laughing himself, still spinning his gun casually as he continued.

“You’re really laughing? Heh, and listen, buddy, how can you not know how hard your own life has been? Huh?”

I pushed the PR manager aside and brought the gun barrel that had been pointed at his side close to the operative’s stomach. I immediately pulled the trigger. The muffled gunshot was barely audible through the silencer.

A skilled operative would have reacted. I could see his pupils contract as he focused upon hearing the silenced gunshot. But it was too late.

“Ah, aagh! Y-you bastard! Gaaah, haak!”

Three, no, four shots. I saved two bullets in case of counterattack and put the rest into his body. I mocked him as he screamed and doubled over as if a burning star had been embedded in his stomach.

“Not about my life, but how painful your death will be.”

He was indeed skilled, just with a twisted personality and lacking in ability. Even in this situation, he tried to keep a firm grip on his gun, so I struck his wrist with the bottom of my pistol to make him drop it.

If the journalist had properly called the police, they would arrive within five minutes. Time flies when you’re having fun, so it would probably be sooner than I expected.