Hansa was a childhood friend of Bigga’s and a novice bio-hacker. This area was his turf, and there was suspicion that he’d been involved with Banfield’s bio-hacking.
“I haven’t seen you in ages… I’m glad you showed up.”
“I’m happy to see you, too. But Dad can’t find out I saw you.” Hansa looked around nervously. “Um, Bigga told me the bureau won’t arrest me or anything, no matter what I say… Can I believe you?”
Since Hansa and his fellows were making a living from criminal activity, they naturally feared the bureau. That aside, it appeared that Hansa had mistaken Harold for a human, just like Bigga had when they’d first met.
“So long as you help the investigation, we’ll hold up our end of the bargain,” Harold replied in a businesslike manner. “Also, I should add that I’m an Amicus, so I don’t have the authority to arrest you.”
“Huh?” Hansa stared at him with wide eyes. “You’re an Amicus? But you look so…”
“Ah, over here, over here! I’m the officer in charge.”
Investigator Gardener got out of the car and hurried over, curling up to shake off the cold. He must have seen Hansa pull over. He held up his ID as he approached the boy.
“I’m Investigator Gardener. Did you perform the surgery on Banfield?”
“Ah, um…” Hansa’s eyes darted in confusion. “Could you speak a little slower…?”
Sami like Bigga and Hansa were multilingual, but he was terribly nervous.
“No, I heard that he didn’t do any surgery, but that he did prescribe Banfield a suppressant.” Bigga cut in. “The kind that stops all the machines inside your body, mainly the Your Forma. Right, Hansa?”
“Oh, yes, I did prescribe him that. Um, it was three days ago.”
Three days—that lined up with when Banfield’s GPS data had gone missing in Enontekiö. The suppressants must have shut down his Your Forma.
“Why did Banfield ask for the suppressant?” Gardener asked in a polite tone.
“I don’t know,” Hansa replied, his expression stiff. “At first, he said he wanted his Your Forma taken out altogether, but since I’m still new at this, I can’t do that… So I prescribed him a suppressant instead. Sold him a month’s worth.”
“Is there some rule preventing you from giving us information on your clients?”
“Basically, yes. But I think that if he turned to us for help, he probably has a guilty conscience.”
For whatever reason, Banfield didn’t want his GPS coordinates known—and it made sense, because the incident in Farasha Island had received worldwide coverage. The official story was that the mental shutdowns had been caused by a virus, but the investors who knew the truth were seized with fear. It was plausible that, like the other investors, Banfield was afraid his ties to the Alliance had been uncovered and had attempted to escape.
Bigga butted into their exchange. “Hansa, you set up Banfield with somewhere to stay, right?”
“Yeah, a hotel nearby. I think he’s still there.”
“Good, we were hoping you’d take us there.” Gardener placed a hand on Hansa’s shoulder. “Come take the jeep with me. Bigga and Harold, you take the share car.”
Gardener gently pushed a confused Hansa forward, hurrying him along to the jeep. Bigga looked concerned, but Harold urged her ahead and walked over to the car. It was a Japanese car they’d borrowed at the airport, but since it was an “oldie” that had been mass-produced during the 2000s, it didn’t operate very well.
As Harold got into the driver’s seat, Bigga put on the seat belt in the passenger’s seat.
“Investigator Gardener is sharing the route on my map, so I’ll give you directions.” She sighed. “Ugh, I swear, he could have just sent it to your terminal…”
“You can’t blame him. It’s his first time working with an investigation assistant Amicus.”
Bigga tensed up a little at his comment. Harold pretended he didn’t notice it and pulled the emergency brake. Despite Gardener taking refuge from the cold here a few minutes ago, the inside of the vehicle was back to freezing. The heating wasn’t working very well, but Harold was personally fine with that.
The heating.
An unpleasant memory crossed his thought process, but Harold easily corrected course back to normal.
“Um… Harold?”
Bigga parted her lips meekly as they drove out of the coffee shop parking lot after Hansa’s jeep. The bumpy trail surrounded by pine trees became dim at some point. It wasn’t even three PM yet, but the sun set early in the Nordic countries this time of year.
“Yes?” Harold asked, still gripping the steering wheel.
“Uh…” Bigga seemed to decide against saying what she originally wanted to say and changed the question. “Your malfunction isn’t fully fixed, right? But they sent you all the way here, to the countryside… If you’re having trouble working, you should tell Chief Totoki, okay?”
“The glitch doesn’t get in the way of ordinary activity. It just makes it difficult for me to handle actions that are taxing on my processing power, like assisting Brain Dives.”
“The chief told me that, yes… But if it get worse, let us know right away.”
“I appreciate the concern, Bigga,” he answered with a perfect smile, but her expression remained as troubled as before.
She was clasping the seat belt tightly. She must have been conflicted over speaking her mind and had ultimately settled on picking a roundabout way of saying it.
“You’re the only one who can match Miss Hieda’s abilities, Harold,” Bigga said, her voice sounding like she was trying to deliberately soften it. “I keep asking how the two of you will manage… No, that’s not it. I don’t just mean in terms of work…”
“Even if our positions change, I’ll still be Investigator Hieda’s friend.”
“Yes, right.” Bigga’s voice hardened. “I just, um, got a little nervous. Because the two of you have been acting kind of awkward for a while now… But, sorry. What I said was weird, wasn’t it…?”
Nothing’s changed, right?