Her eyes narrowed in shock.
The drone was definitely shaped like a bee—except it was fashioned after a European hornet, which was larger than a honeybee. The model was outfitted with a sharp stinger, and it contained a flask-shaped hollow unit. But despite that, the measurements in the schematic showed that it was markedly smaller than the typical agricultural pollinator model.
What is this?
“Apparently, its hollow unit is capable of cooling its contents and is connected to a syringe.” Harold gave his cold analysis. “Investigator Gardener, what does this code mean?”
The Amicus pointed to a line of English alphanumeric text on the top right corner of the screen.
“I don’t know,” Gardener replied at once, pale in the face. “It’s not like I worked here.”
“Hold on, you just told us a second ago that you have access to confidential data and used to help out around here.”
Harold looked straight at Gardener; the Amicus must have assumed that Gardener knew what this code meant but was trying to play dumb. Echika stared at the two of them. Gardener, meanwhile, blinked over and over.
“Investigator Gardener.” Echika appealed to him, too. “Please.”
He closed his eyes once, like he was brooding over a choice.
“This is… I’m not sure, but I think this is a development code for a military weapon.”
A weapon.
And the investors had been killed by a chimeric virus, a biological weapon developed for military use.
“But weapons development isn’t our field, and if I remember correctly, we only accepted it once before,” Gardener said, stuttering awkwardly. “Back when I was still helping out here, we were making reconnaissance drones requested for the British Army… I don’t know if that was ever really utilized, but at the time, I got to see the schematics for it.”
“So this was developed during that venture?” Harold asked.
“No, that’s not what I mean, just that the code looks the same. Those drones weren’t shaped like bees. Our stakeholders are mostly moderates, anyway, and our company policy isn’t to make drones capable of causing harm.” The more he said, the faster he spoke. “A weapon that might carry a virus is going too far. We don’t make those kinds of things.”
They had to disregard Gardener’s sentimental argument here. Echika silently exchanged glances with Harold. They both understood without saying a word—they needed to carefully examine these schematics at all costs. And to do that…
“Investigator Gardener,” Echika said firmly. “Can you call the CEO here?”
“I think he’s already back.” He stiffened, seemingly operating his Your Forma. “He replied to the message I sent him, and, uh… It says not to let the investigators into his study.”
Things had just gotten a lot more suspicious.
“Let’s get out of here and meet your father at the entrance hall, then.”
Harold gently plucked the tablet from Gardener’s hands.
Gardener’s father entered the building a short while after Echika’s group walked down to the entrance hall. He was a middle-aged Englishman with square-lensed glasses, whose features greatly resembled his son’s. Following slowly behind him was a mass-produced secretary Amicus.
<Greg Gardener. Fifty-five years old. CEO of drone development company Robin Flutter>
“The least you could have done was tell me about this three days in advance.” The first thing Greg did was complain to his son. “Hello. How can I help agents of the Electrocrime Investigations Bureau?”
“Mr. Gardener, I realize this is rude, given this is our first conversation, but I’ll cut right to the chase.”
There was no point in beating around the bush at this stage. Echika thrust the tablet they’d taken from Greg’s study into his hands, its monitor displaying the schematics for the hornet-shaped military drone.
Greg’s eyes flicked to his son in a blaming manner for a moment. Something was up, after all.
“I’m sorry, Dad. The investigation was already underway when I got your message,” Investigator Gardener said in a guilty voice. “Please tell us about these schematics. We have to do this for the investigatio—”
“Jacob, we need to talk later.” Greg cut off his son and turned his eyes back to Echika. “These documents are company secrets. I don’t appreciate you searching my desk without a warrant.”
“According to Investigator Gardener here, these are schematics for a military weapon. Is that correct?” Harold asked softly. Echika saw Greg’s shoulders tense.
“Yes, well… We developed it under a request from the British government. This is a rejected draft, though.”
“I thought it was supposed to be a reconnaissance drone?” Echika asked.
“Yes, and that’s what this drone was designed for. They’re fashioned like bugs so they would be difficult to spot. Every country develops drones like this. It’s not exclusive to us.”
“Is this particular feature necessary for a reconnaissance drone, then?” She pointed at the stinger part of the schematics. “This looks like it’s built to inject something. Like a virus, for instance?”
Greg’s eyes narrowed instantly, and greasy beads of sweat surfaced on his forehead. The look on his face said more than any words could.
This man was definitely part of the Alliance.
“…You’re lying, right?” Investigator Gardener whispered, stunned. “No, Dad, the way you’re acting—”
“I think that’s enough.” Echika shoved the tablet into Gardener’s hands. “Mr. Gardener, I’m sorry, but we have some questions we need you to—”
Echika couldn’t even finish the sentence. Greg suddenly pushed Echika way. It was so sudden, she couldn’t brace herself, spectacularly staggering back. Harold caught her, but by the time they looked up, Greg was already bolting out of the entrance door. Employees he passed by turned around, startled.
“Dad!” Gardener shouted. “Where are you going?!”
Oh, give me a break!
“Investigator, I’ll activate the mousetrap I set.”
“You think we have time for your riddles right now?!”
Echika ignored Harold’s vague words and took off after Greg. As she stumbled out of the building, she spotted a black Volvo parked at the roundabout.