“I heard the drone was deliberately sabotaged?”
Echika and Fokine’s share car drove along a highway in the city of Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The artificial greenery of the municipal park they passed was a far cry from Saint Moritz’s abundant nature. The sky overhead was a stagnant color, crowded with delivery drones flying here and there like swarms of insects. The fact that so many of them could fly all over the place without bumping into each other was almost as impressive to witness as a feat of acrobatics.
“I zoomed in on the photo Totoki shared with us. The scratches on the drone look like they’re from bullets,” Fokine said as he held the steering wheel. “Based on the flight altitude report, it was likely targeted while flying over the woodland. I guess you could assume some amateur hunter mistook it for a bird and shot it, if you want to be generous, but…”
Echika zoomed in on the footage in her Your Forma’s window—one of the blades of the drone’s propeller had a thin abrasion mark on it. Even if it was shot by some amateur marksman, it was unlikely they would be out during nighttime, nor would they mistake a fast-moving machine for a wild bird. Had someone tried to intentionally gun it down?
“If the Alliance did this, does this mean the result of the sample would be bad for them?” Echika closed the image. “Does the Alliance keep an eye on the dead investors and track what we’re up to?”
“Looking at Chief Totoki’s message, that would seem to be the case.”
Fokine was referring to the message Totoki had sent them that morning.
“There’s been a development in the matter of Banfield’s sample. You’ll need to fly to Philadelphia. I’ll send the address.”
Echika rubbed her neck, which was still stiff from the airplane seat, as she read the concise instructions Totoki had sent them again; she and Fokine had gotten this message when they were in the Zurich International Airport. They were just about to board the flight to Saint Petersburg when they got the order.
“Normally, you’d expect a US-based branch to send people to Philadelphia.” Fokine produced some Swiss chocolate he’d bought as a souvenir and started nibbling on it. “We were in yesterday’s emergency meeting and were supposed to take the morning flight back to Saint Petersburg. What changed?”
She understood what he was trying to say.
“We’ll need to ask the chief, but there must be a reason she’s sending us to do it.”
“I hope it’s that, and not that there just happened to be a direct flight from Switzerland to Philadelphia.”
They couldn’t rule that out with Totoki. “Forget that. Don’t eat all the souvenirs.”
Echika scrutinized Fokine, who jolted a bit and retracted his hand from the chocolate box. She’d had a hunch she would need to buy a lot of chocolate, and it had been right.
Fokine cleared his throat. “Our destination is a medical research institute in Lafayette Hill, right?”
“Right. Except, when I looked up the address the chief sent us, a rehabilitation facility came up instead.”
“Assuming she didn’t send us a wrong address, it must be a disguise.” Fokine frowned bitterly. “You don’t think it’s some top secret military research facility, do you?”
“Who’s to say? Whatever the case, it’s going to have strict security.”
The name of the disease Banfield had contracted hadn’t been disclosed to them, after all. Why were they being sent to a medical research facility in Philadelphia that had nothing to do with the bureau, at this point in the investigation? Echika had messaged Totoki about this earlier that morning but had gotten no response. Maybe the chief was busy—she wasn’t picking up any calls, either.
That was all the more ominous.
Trying to distract herself from the grim premonition filling her mind, Echika took a packet of nutrient jelly from the dashboard. She’d bought it in the airport kiosk that morning. She tore the pouch open, then noticed Fokine’s exasperated gaze on her.
“Might as well eat the chocolates, no? They’d taste way better than this.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, we got those as a souvenir for Bigga and the rest.” Echika glanced at the box of chocolates. And even if it wasn’t a souvenir… “I’m not in the mood for sweets right now.”
“Investigator, smoking is good for relieving stress, but personally, I’d recommend you try sweets instead.”
One time, Harold had opened his hand, offering her a piece of a chocolate.
She thought back to seeing him in yesterday’s meeting. Maybe it was because it was through the screen, but surprisingly, his presence hadn’t fazed her too much. She could only hope she’d be able to keep her emotions in check going forward, too.
I can do it. For sure.
Lafayette Hill was a small town north of the Schuylkill River surrounded by parks and golf courses. It was a serene place, quite unlike the hustle and bustle of Philadelphia. The “rehabilitation facility” they were heading for was an old-looking bungalow on the outskirts of town.
According to the map, the building was designed in an unequal cross shape, with a private road surrounding its grounds. The glass door was nailed shut with a few planks, but there were several cars in the parking lot. Echika read the signboard’s matrix code, which reported the rehabilitation facility had been closed off and blockaded for a long while now.
Was this really the place?
Echika and Fokine got out of the share car, doubt clear on their faces.
“Right on time. I’m glad you came straight here.”
A figure approached them from the private road along the side of the building. Echika watched it silently—it was none other than Ui Totoki, clad in her usual gray suit. Her tight ponytail fluttered in the cold, ten AM wind. She had been in Lyon during yesterday’s emergency meeting, and Echika had failed to contact her since.
“Chief?” Fokine was stunned. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“I was busy. I’m sorry I asked you two to come on short notice.” Totoki apologized without the slightest bit of sincerity. “Like I said in my message, there was a problem with the analysis reports on Banfield’s sample. I had the two of you come here at the bureau director’s request.”
Echika was perplexed. “What’s going on?”
“You both were at Farasha Island during the thought manipulation incident and are well aware of the situation there. I’ll be listening to a detailed explanation soon, but…for now, let’s talk inside.”
Totoki looked stiffer than usual. Echika and Fokine exchanged curious glances as they followed her. Given the situation, they couldn’t express their doubts. Their only option was to keep their mouths shut and follow.
The chief led them to a side entrance on the building’s west side. Like the front entrance, it had a glass door that had been boarded up from the inside. At first glance, the place looked abandoned, but there was a narrow entrance leading inside with a latest model security gate set up there. Some security Amicus demanded they leave their weapons there. Totoki and Echika were unarmed, so only Fokine had to comply.
Slipping through the oppressive security gate, they took the elevator down to the first basement floor. The interior looked like it had once been a tennis court, though the court itself was gone now, with the area near the entrance remodeled into an office space.
Past a partitioned area, Echika could see a space full of machinery and research equipment. The staff employees walking by were all dressed in lab coats or suits.
Echika’s eyes darted around nervously as she tried to maintain her cool. This was definitely some kind of lab, not a rehabilitation facility.
“My investigators are here, Department Head Miller.” Totoki called out to a middle-aged Black man sitting behind an office desk. He turned to her. There was not a single wrinkle on his lab coat, and he wore a pair of thick-framed glasses over his methodical-looking eyes.
<Grayson Miller, 59 years old. Department Head of the Contagion Biology Lab at the US Department of Defense’s DARPA (Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency) Philadelphia Medical Institute. Was affiliated with the Pennsylvania Temporary Infection Control Measures Team during the SID spore pandemic. Previously a member of the Baumgartner Medical Development Laboratory’s Neural Safety Development Division’s subcommittee…>
Many researchers had made major developments during the pandemic period, but Echika was surprised to see someone who’d actually been involved with the Neural Safety Development Division. Neural Safety was a threadlike machine that preceded the Your Forma. During the pandemic thirty-two years ago, many of the infected had died from encephalitis. This revolutionary medical device, incorporated directly into the brain, had been humankind’s ray of hope.
“Thank you for coming all the way here.” Miller shook Echika’s and Fokine’s hands with a friendly smile, then looked at Totoki. “A representative from the NSA has just arrived, too. I’ll show you to the booth.”
Miller led them to a locker room that was renovated into a meeting room. At the center of the room was a “booth” consisting of a frosted glass cube at the center of a nest of boxes. The moment they passed through the booth, her Your Forma called up a warning.
<No available network environment detected. Switching to offline mode>
Now Echika understood why they were in the booth. It cut off access to the internet, allowing its occupants to communicate without fear of being intercepted.
This all felt very suspicious. She felt herself stiffen.
“Oh, she’s very young for an investigator. Did you bring a trainee over?”
Inside the booth was a circular table where two figures were seated. The one to make that snarky remark was a woman dressed in a vivid-colored suit. She looked to be around Totoki’s age. Her hair, dyed a platinum blond, was immaculate, and Echika could smell her thick perfume even from afar.
“Thank you for waiting.” Totoki approached the woman, unfazed. “I’m Ui Totoki, from the Electrocrime Investigations Bureau HQ’s Brain Diving Division.”
Because they were cut off from the network, they needed to handle introductions orally.
“Hello, I’m Cook from the National Security Agency. Welcome to Philadelphia.”
Echika couldn’t believe it at first. The National Security Agency, or the NSA, was the United States’ leading intelligence organization, managed by the Pentagon. Their existence had once been secret, and even now, over half of their activities were classified.
Needless to say, they had nothing to do with the Electrocrime Investigations Bureau.
So how had things gotten to where the NSA needed to get involved?
“Well met, Investigator Hieda and Investigator Fokine,” said the other person seated at the table.