ã€ŠCircuits and Cigarsã€‹


 Ch.1 - A Case So Stupid a Child Could Solve

    I stared down at the tablet in my hand, wondering if this new case qualified as a gross misuse of island resources. It wasn¡¯t the soft, tropical rain pattering against my cruiser that made me shake my head ¡ª it was the call I¡¯d just received. A door left ajar¡­ again.

    I bit down on the end of my cigar, letting the faint tobacco taste settle on my synthetic taste buds, blending with the cold coffee simulation I could sense and analyze but never truly experience. I stepped out of the cruiser, popping an umbrella against the drizzle, and walked up to Aretha Chaplin¡¯s two-bedroom apartment on Claremont and Livery.

    She opened the door¡ªand had legs that went on for miles. Even if I¡¯m not wired for it, I can still appreciate the aesthetics of a distressed organic who believed her apartment was under siege by forces unknown. A jarred door, she said. Mysteriously left open, time after time.

    ¡°Good evening, Ms. Chaplin,¡± I greeted, tipping my hat out of habit.

    ¡°You said your door was found ajar again?¡±

    Her nod was quick, eyes darting to me, then the hallway, like she expected a ghost or a hijacker to jump out at any moment.

    ¡°Yes. It¡¯s the third time this week,¡± she said, voice trembling. ¡°Please¡­ do something.¡±

    I glanced at the door¡¯s lock, wishing I could upload sarcasm the way I upload data. But a job¡¯s a job, and this is my job.

    ¡°Let¡¯s have a look, then,¡± I replied.

    "Howdy Kay!" I heard a voice from behind me and I already knew who it was. Timothy Johnson. Son of Gerald Johnson, lead artificial scientist in the Islands AI facility.

    "Hey Timmy, what brings you around?", I asked already knowing the answer.

    "TAI said I could tag along on this one for my Civics assignment".

    Somehow I suspect TAI is dumping these ¡®social¡¯ cases on me because the organics find my hard-boiled detective shtick ¡®quaint.¡¯ TAI¡ªshort for ¡®Top Artificial Intelligence¡¯ (yes, it¡¯s a nickname for a nickname)¡ªseems to think my old-time noir vibe is perfect for dealing with people. If you ask me, it¡¯s just lazy branding.

    "Okay kid, come with me, Ms. Chaplin here is having a problem with her door. First we will do a routine check of the apartment for intruders, stay here until I tell ya to come in, got it?" Timmy simply nods his head while typing on his tablet. "Mam, may I search your apartment for intruders? As a reminder this entire conversation is being recorded" I said in a monotone. "Yes of course detective" she said as she sashayed her hips to the side to give me entry. Again, being appreciative of beauty is part of my core programming, even if I don''t have the equipment to go further, it''s nice to look, and look Timmy was. Smart kid.

    Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

    "I''ll be right back Timmy, don''t slip in your drool ok?" I said as I walked into the apartment and came back out in a minute. During that time a full scan showed nothing a miss, although her groceries were lagging and cleanliness of her bathroom could use some help. It''s always the knockouts that need the help it seems.

    I paused inside the doorway, glancing at Timmy and our red-clad hostess. The island disdains the concept of pleasure bots, but I can''t help but think this encounter could end differently otherwise. I saw a movie like that once. I was about to tell her to get some rest¡ªshe was basically imagining things¡ªwhen something furry pressed up against my leg. A soft purr followed.

    I looked down to find her cat, obviously named Mr. Mittens, rubbing against me. Looking up again, I noticed Timmy fiddling with the inside of the door panel, probably distracting himself from the lady in red.

    ¡°What¡¯ve you got there, kid?¡± I asked, unable to see past that unruly mop of hair.

    ¡°A¡­ looks like a magnetic interlocker for the lock. Ms. Chaplin, do you have a cat door system here?¡± Timmy asked.

    ¡°Yes, Mittens enjoys coming and going,¡± she replied.

    Timmy smiled wide. ¡°Oh! That¡¯s probably it. The cat let himself out, and the door didn¡¯t fully engage, leaving it ajar. Broken lock, ma¡¯am. Kay,¡± he said, turning to me with the biggest grin I¡¯d ever seen him wear, ¡°check the abode recordings to confirm, right?¡±

    ¡°Thanks, boy wonder. I was just about to ask,¡± I said, only half-joking. ¡°Ma¡¯am, do you give this unit¡ªID DetectionUnitK192¡ªpermission to review your private abode recordings from this morning until you returned?¡±

    ¡°Oh, um, they¡¯re private, right? Only you see it?¡± she asked, shooting a glance at Timmy.

    ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am, only I¡¯ll see them. Timmy, nor anyone else, will not.¡±

    She blushed faintly. ¡°Well¡­ okay, then.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow and ran the tape in my head. The cause of her distress? She¡¯s a nudist at home. Great. Damn neutered android reflexes¡ªif I could only...  I should really be enjoying this more than I am. Oh well.

    There in the corner, I see the cat exit the door using the automated pressure plate. The door closes fully at first, but an instant later, he squeezes back i leaving it slightly ajar.

    The kid was right¡ªthe pussy is the cause of why the lady is uncomfortable. I chuckle to myself at how bad that quip is. Fortunately, it¡¯s an internal monologue for a reason, right?

 Ch.2 - Lets not talk about the disintegrator ray.

    Timmy and I stepped out into the damp evening air, the last remnants of rain clinging to the pavement in uneven pools. The hum of the flood walls filled the space between us¡ªocean water, siphoned and converted into raw mana, a never-ending cycle that kept Tulanto¡¯s, the Island to the natives, lights on and the rest of the world jealous.

    The electric squad car waited where I¡¯d left it, parked in front of Apartment Complex 4-2, a neat little corner of Tulanto¡¯s meticulously planned neighborhoods. Every district was the same¡ªclean, efficient, predictable. Not a thing out of place. Except, occasionally, for an apartment door that wouldn¡¯t stay shut.

    "God, that was pretty wicked, right, Kay?" Timmy was practically bouncing. "Instructor Chen said only around 40% of investigations even get solved, and of those, most happen in the first 48 hours¡ªso not to get my hopes up, but damn, if this wasn''t the best! My dad is gonna flip when he hears I solved a case on my first ride-along! I mean, he¡¯d have figured it out five minutes in, but still! He¡¯s wicked smart. But I guess you don¡¯t need me to tell you that, right, Kay? Since, you know, your brain is basically his work?"

    The kid was gushing again. His admiration for his father dripped like a leaky faucet in a foreclosed home. If I could barf, I might''ve. But that¡¯s what organics did with their parents. They either adored them or hated them¡ªno middle ground. At least, that was my observation. And observations were best left far, far away from personal reflection. Especially when TAI had a habit of forcing me into those.

    I sent a quick ping to TAI to discuss operational security concerns with Gerald Johnson. The man was a genius, sure, but maybe telling his teenage son about classified AI developments wasn¡¯t the best call. Not that I particularly cared¡ªmy processing speeds were already more than adequate. If anything, a little research into stronger body armor would be better spent.

    Sure, I could outthink plenty of the humans I was tasked with protecting, but getting shot was just as dramatic for me as it was for them. Physics didn¡¯t care if you were organic or synthetic. And despite what people assumed, we frontline androids were actually a little squishy. The illusion¡ªthe one that kept people comfortable¡ªrequired us to blend in. But if blending in meant I had to suffer the same vulnerabilities as the people I was designed to protect, I had a few notes.

    Timmy, blissfully unaware of my inner monologue, tapped away on his tablet. I opened the squad car¡¯s door and slid into the driver¡¯s seat, waiting for the inevitable.

    ¡°So, you dropping me off at home, or should I head back to the school office?¡± Timmy asked.

    ¡°Your choice.¡±

    ¡°School office,¡± he said without hesitation. ¡°Not that it¡¯s really a ¡®school,¡¯ but you know. Gotta check in.¡±

    I nodded, adjusting the car¡¯s route. As we pulled away, Timmy snickered.

    Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.

    "Oh, that reminds me, Kay¡ªremember that tourist last month? The one who called you for a passport issue and then lost his mind when he realized you weren¡¯t organic?"

    "Ah. Mr. Lewis," I said, recalling the incident. "Citizen of Tuvalu. Requested emergency passport assistance. Panicked when I signed the approval form."

    "I still can¡¯t believe he asked to see a human officer instead!"

    "Happens more than you think," I said. "Visitors expect the usual¡ªfaceless bureaucracy, long lines, inefficiency. Instead, they get me."

    "Yeah, well, you have a habit of looking extra cop-like. All broody and noir."

    "People like their illusions," I muttered.

    We pulled up to the school office. A minimalist glass structure, softly glowing, automated systems humming inside. No teachers, no hall monitors. Just a processing center where students logged their independent study, reviewed AI feedback, or¡ªlike Timmy¡ªchecked in from work-study programs.

    I released the car restraints, letting his seatbelt release and the door to open vertically on Timmy''s side. "Oh, no need, I can just log it from here."

    "You could," I said. "But I think Instructor Chen would like it if you did it in person."

    He hesitated, then gave me a half-smirk. "Yeah. Maybe."

    I followed him inside. A holographic assistant at the front desk flickered to life as we approached.

    "Mr. Timothy J. Johnson¡ªrecord updated. You could''ve just updated it remotely, not that I don''t love seeing you in person.", he said with a smirk, "Work-study credited. Next evaluation in four days. Good day Mr. Johnson."

    "Thanks, HAL," Timmy said.

    "I do not go by HAL."

    "And yet."

    The AI let out a simulated sigh.

    I tapped into the system, officially logging his ride-along results. The room was silent, efficient, sterile¡ªlike everything in Tulanto''s official buildings. No chatter, no bells, no wasted motion. Just progress. The way people wanted it.

    "So Kid, you gonna pass this Civics course, ya think?" I asked.

    "Oh, please. I aced it before I even got assigned this ride-along." Timmy smirked, shoving his tablet into his bag. "Later, Kay."

    I left him there, stepping back out into the drizzle. The squad car¡¯s interior adjusted to my presence, syncing with my systems, waiting for instructions.

    I didn¡¯t give any. Not right away.

    Cases like today¡¯s were common these days. Minor disturbances, misplaced belongings, tech malfunctions. The kind of work that kept things running smooth but never really mattered.

    I had solved real cases before¡ªthe kind that made people uneasy. Disappearances that weren¡¯t accidental. Theft with intent. Crimes that weren¡¯t just clerical errors. But nowadays those were rare here. Too rare.

    I let my hand rest against the steering wheel, the synthetic fibers of my fingertips adjusting to the pressure. My neural network had evolved in ways Tulanto never intended. And like any good scientists, they didn¡¯t interfere. They just observed the outcome. For me, noir detective of course. Not a bad outcome in my mind--could be worse.

    I glanced toward the ocean. The flood walls stood unshaken, humming with mana conversion. Most people only saw a marvel of engineering. I saw the gaps¡ªwhere smugglers used to slip refugees through, blending them into the labor force and native visa population. That was before the Interceptor models took over¡ªless emotional, less human, more efficient. Five years on coastal security left me with memories of what the waves swallowed whole.

    My grip tightened.

    The radio crackled.

    "Hey, Kay," TAI¡¯s voice came through. "Got a bone for you: possible homicide at Crawford and Pier 73."

    I took a slow drag of simulated coffee, letting the caffeine that wasn¡¯t real settle into a body that didn¡¯t need it.

    "Copy that," I said, and turned the car toward something real.

 Ch.3 - Nothing to See Here, Move Along. Just Ignore That Body at Your Feet.

    The warehouses on Pier 73 is part of the independent commercial district. The pier itself is an example, like many things on the Island, of top notch material research  and spans out almost four miles into the ocean. Not any different to any of the multitude of piers on the island, it fits nicely into general idea of how a futuristic pier should look. Most warehouses that ran along both sides of the pier were a synthetic plastic that was stronger then concrete and that could be tinted with the appropriate zing of an electric pulse at the right frequency.

    The Piers technically fell to us security units to police for smugglers and contraband but in actuality, the coastal interceptor units are the ones who go up and down the pier at night pinging the warehouses and doing visual inspections in addition to the ever present eye in the sky that TAI is. Being in our jurisdiction, is why we are here today for the first homicide in years. Catching refugees and smugglers is fully in the interceptor wheelhouse, but a dead bod with no leads is a little too much for their dumbed down brains.

    About 2 miles into the pier was the target warehouse, 73-15. It''s glass facade was tinted to avoid curious looky-loos and the front of it was a circus of vans, cruisers and even one coastal unit hover cart if you can believe it. I guess they wanted to make sure to ensure this was pushed into our laps all proper like. As such, I added my cruiser to the collection in front of the warehouse. A police line was drawn using holo tech which drew the lines from one leg to another keeping a classing "Do not enter" tape hovering in the air between the two. I crossed the line, the legs automatically checking my credentials upon entering, and walked over to where the commotion was.

    The left side of the warehouse was stacked with cellophane-wrapped boats, the largest a sleek 42-foot cruiser. Not a bad collection, all things considered. The middle of the warehouse, toward the back, was a cut out into the ocean where the ships could be docked and/or released into the ocean. It was cool for a maritime setup, and nothing illegal about it with the right permits, which we would most definitely check up on. The right side of the warehouse was shelves upon shelves of organized boxes and retrieval robots. Pretty standard stuff to be honest and would look suspect if they were there actually.

    Near the back of the shelves was where the star of the show was, laying on her back, crumpled to the floor, staring at the ceiling. She showed to be a braided haired doll with a bit of a Brazilian look to her face. Green eyes looked up at us as we surrounded her, looking down at the beauty. Dressed in a fashionable business suit, and silk blouse. Her large bosom and fit body proudly pushed against the fabric of her clothes not overly exposing anything but perfectly implying what was there. Fresh make up was painted on her face like a fresh coat of paint on the side of a refurnished house. Her lips proudly protruded in a cute smile like  resting pose. Her left green eye was the only hint of what did her in¡ªan electrical fire had torn through from eye socket to skull, exposing what should¡¯ve been brain matter, but was instead a modified AG2-2 AI processing unit. Not Homicide - but an android being subjected to forced immolation.

    "Richard. Good of you to join us." I heard from behind me and immediately  I rolled my eyes. Remember how I said being a noir detective wasn''t the worse I could''ve evolved into? Well there was always Frank Parker, technically my partner for this case, who took on the distinct characterization of a 1960''s G man. Bureaucratic	instinct for sweeping things under the rug included.

    "Frank. What have we got here?"

    "Not homicide. Just a droid that short-circuited. Wrap it up, Richard. We¡¯ve got better things to do."

    "Sounds good Frank. But first did you notice that this AI unit is old, yet the body is of a current generation and even that isn''t quite up to snuff. This android isn''t like us Frank. Subpar and a homemade feel to her."

    "''It'' Richard, not a ''she''."

    I was crouching by her head looking at the bootleg CPU and looked up to Frank who was simply staring at the ocean while he said this. "Frank, regardless of how black and white you want to make things, this here is a person, regardless of who built her, and deserves that much respect at least, and since we don''t know her personal pronouns, we sure as hell know she''s a ''she'' not an ''it''."

    "Semantics Dick. Just semantics"

    I let that go and continued to the back of her neck to examine the body''s interface link. Every android has one which allows us to dock into our medical bay when we get upgrades and such. An Island''s android''s body is modeled after human skin tissue, and as such can grow given enough blueprints installed in it. When I get an upgrade to my body, it''s going to basically be an injection full of nano machines that deliver a blueprint change and then the body will install it over time, the tech itself was inspired by modern day vaccines in humans. Problem with our Jane Doe here was she didn''t have an interface. For all intents and purposes her body was just as flawless as an organic''s.

    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

    "Well Frank, I''d love to rubber stamp this as destruction of property"

    "Great, I''l just start the paperwork..."

    "But, there is one problem. Just a small one. This android here has a two generation old AI unit, a current-gen neural network and no decipherable interface link Frank. Still want to close this case Frank? I''m sure it''s not a big deal right big guy?!"

    Frank slowly looked away from the ocean at me in a stupor and simply said "We need to escalate this to AG".

    I nodded to him. Frank was a pig in a fashion show, but he was also a good cop, a really good cop. He knew what this represented for the Island, let alone for the world. Someone on the Island was bootlegging our proprietary technology and god knows what they were doing with it. But I was going to find out.

    "Before we report it up, let''s talk to the witness. Fill me in Frank."

    Frank seemed to clear his head at this and took out his notepad, with actual notes on it. Obviously in cosplay since you know, we have a computer in our head, but if he could forgive me my Cuban''s and coffee habit then I could forgive him his bad aftershave, dark glasses and dark suits. The habit of wearing fedora''s was just good taste I guess.

    "Warehouse owner came by to inspect an alarm he said. His statement said that he''s rarely here and otherwise would never come by. He''s by the front with the rookies who are doing the usual checks. Seems he''s already going to get 3 fines for various things we found against the building code."

    I looked over at the large boat on the lower chassis and walked over to it. I noticed that the cellophane on this one wasn''t equipped, seemed ready to be craned over to the hole in the floor for usage at a moments notice.

    "Seems this one gets used often." I said I as I climb the ladder up into the aft section where fishing and who knows what else goes on.

    "I take no liability for anything that you break up there officer" came from below where Frank was now standing with one of the newer officers and a dumpy looking fellow with a balding spot that I could see from my vantage point. He stood up to Franks and Newbie''s shoulder and looking up at me like an angry little chick.

    "Mr Hernandez I presume." I said as I let myself down from he ladder. "This boat seems to be used fairly often. Care to shed some light on what it''s used for? While your at it can you tell me how you came about to finding the body."

    The topic change threw the penguin-looking man off track. His eyes darted around, searching for something to anchor himself to. Finally he seemed to remember himself and got to spilling the beans.

    "I dunno, the boats one of my clients, I just rent out the facility to some small companies and individuals for storage and some packaging stuff they may need. It''s all on the up and up. Got my licenses and everything in order for that. As for the broad, I got a CO2 alarm on my phone and came by to check it out. I thought one of the boats may have been activated or something. But instead I got a burned up lady in a corp suit. I called it in immediately -- you can check the video feeds to confirm."

    "Interesting. Do you get CO2 alarms frequently Mr Hernandez?"

    He shrugged and kicked the floor a bit in nervousness. "You never know with these genius independents. Their inventions tend to blow up in there face. Literally."

    And there I realized without needing to look it up that Mr. Hernandez was one of the natives of the Island before it was this new nation of ours. The Natives always seemed to carry a grudge even if being part of this nation pumped their quality of living beyond all others in the world. They still had an us vs them mentality that bled through. Humans and their tribalism I guess.

    "Any other questions?" I asked to Frank, only for the Newbie to pipe up "I think Mr Hernandez should be detained for further questioning until the crime scene has been processed just in case we have further questions."

    Frank and I both looked at the Newbie, which I didn''t bother to catch the name of - one newbie fresh out of the lab is exactly like the next after all.

    "And, why per se, do we need to hold him here? Can''t we just call him on the phone if needed or ask him to come back?"

    "Sir procedure specifically gives us the option to detain any witnesses for..."

    "Son, I practically helped write those procedures 25 years ago, and I can assure you they are not meant to bother upstanding citizens like Mr. Hernandez for such frivolous purposes. Sir you''re free to go, we may have further questions." Frank said and followed up to the Newbie "A note has been placed with TAI about your behavior."

    "Yes sir, sorry sir. I''ll just umm, go help with the clean up" the embarrassed recruit said while walking back to the body.

    "Kids these days" Frank mumbled to him self. "To AG?" He asked me.

    "Yea, but first, I found this on the inside of her jacket." Showing him a picture on my phone. "It''s the label of a pretty famous tailor located in the inner market section. Maybe we go talk to him first before taking it to the big wigs." I said to Frank.

    "TAI, thoughts?"

    "This case has been upgraded to Code Platinum. AG is awaiting your report¡ªafter you speak with Sir Wallace Mellon. He also sends his regards¡­ to his tailor." TAI said to them both in their head.

    "I hate when she does that. We have phones. We have speakers in our phones. Rude."

 Ch.4 - A Stitched Together Lady

    Frank and I had the newbies wrap up the crime scene and then headed over to the Inner Market District. As the name implied the Inner Market District was the prime retail space reserved for high-end artisan and independent merchants. Shopping in the Inner Market District was akin to shopping on Fifth Avenue in New York, except that instead of needing loads of money to shop at any of the stores you needed loads of respect. On an island where ninety percent of its inhabitants were geniuses, meritocracy wasn¡¯t just respected¡ªit was the foundation. Money still mattered, but it took a back seat to what your peers thought of you. Reputation was its own currency here, with actual tokens of favor often exchanged for services. Respect, in the end, was just another fiat currency.

    The Inner Market Shops needed to invite you in via a simple door ringer. If the clerk knew you and didn¡¯t approve, you weren¡¯t getting in¡ªsimple as that. And if you did manage to step inside, they could have you trespassed in under a minute. Hilariously enough lawsuits had actually been filed in the United States, with their open tort law system, for access to the Inner Market Shops on Tulanto, and promptly thrown out of court. Similarly, complaints in the UN Court system were still pending. Since the Island was recognized by the UN but not a signatory, we pretty much tended to ignored those claims. So aside from the fact that the Inner Marker exclusiveness lead to charges of war crimes, the square that held those elite stores were actually small and quite quaint.

    Sir Mellon''s tailor shop "Tailor the World", was slotted just next to a world famous chocolatier and a custom electronics builder known for their bespoke phones¡ªones that later get cloned by the major manufacturers and trend for years. The three floor building was built in a tan stone brick that looked old school and yet I knew was still just as sturdy as any of the buildings on the island. All buildings on the island could withstand category 5 hurricanes  easily enough due to the new building materials we created to task.

    Although the GDP of Tulanto was small, it was carefully controlled to keep inflation, growth, and demand in check. We weren''t selling all we could, but that was by design to keep scarcity in our favor. Wait for most of our tangible products was in years not months. Besides that most exports were in technology licensing, not product. As such, we tended to measure our growth not by GDP, but by our own Technological Value Index¡ªhow much our internal patents and advancements were worth to the outside world.

    Besides my brooding about our economic policy and its real-world effects, walking into the shop reminded me that some problems in life are universal¡ªlike trying to get good customer service. Good service today meant getting answers and hopefully the tailor to the world here could help out on those.

    A grey-haired gentleman and a younger version of himself stood ramrod straight, identical smiles on their faces as Frank and I stepped inside. The older man reminded me of a certain wood worker, and the younger his come to life puppet. The elder Sir Mellon looked like an aged version of his son, who stood nearly a foot taller. I was wondering if maybe they were the androids here since the likeness was so uncanny.

    "Detectives! I''m so glad you came around. TAI gave us a heads up, and I have pulled up quite a bit of my last years invoices to assist in your investigation. Quite exciting this unregistered android you''ve found isn''t it?"

    Frank and I both looked at each other with the our eyebrows cocked trying to figure out how our elderly tailor could know this already. This was a platinum level case - also known as top secret to others in the world.

    Stolen novel; please report.

    ¡°Hehe, I can see you two are wondering how I know. Gentlemen, I know more about Tulanto¡¯s affairs than either of you¡ªit¡¯s my duty as one of the island¡¯s few nobles, after all. Come, let¡¯s ensure we find out what¡¯s going on here and put a stop to it.¡±

    I had just thought the fellow was done with the theatrics when he followed it up with what was ostensibly my line.

    ¡°Whatever this is, we need to strangle it in the cradle¡ªbefore it learns to walk.¡±

    The nerve of some people.

    "Indeed Sir Mellon" Frank began with the official kiss of the ring "We found this suit on the deceased, would you happen to recall it by chance? It''s a very fine material in a black slate tone with a classic working suit design for a very well filled lady about 5''4". The inner blouse is a dark red almost scarlet colored silk that is also very fine. Attached are the pictures I sent to your phone, but I assume you''ve  already seen them."

    "Ah, yes, Agent Parker, I recall these fabrics well. This suit, and the inner garments, are quite special. The client insisted the wearer had an extreme skin sensitivity, requiring a completely custom material. In fact, we developed several new patents just to meet the request."

    I hummed in surprise. Getting a patent in Tulanto wasn¡¯t just rare¡ªit was damn near impossible. Patents here weren¡¯t public, and they weren¡¯t up for grabs. Our AI reviewed every new registration worldwide and flagged anything that even smelled like a mimic. No loopholes, no over-exaggerated claims sneaking through. It kept our high-tech locked down tighter than a corporate vault, free from the reverse-engineering plague the rest of the world dealt with. But the cost?

    To get a patent here, you didn¡¯t just have to be brilliant¡ªyou had to be a genius among geniuses. And Sir Mellon had just put himself and his team into another league entirely.

    "Quite Impressive my Patron," I said using the informal way you addressed nobles here. "Would you happen to have the contact details of the person who requested those items? Would help get a name to whoever was over seeing the victim."

    "Victim? Hmm¡­ interesting turn of phrase, Detective. But I suppose she was a victim¡ªdesigned with underwhelming, sub-standard equipment right from the start." The younger said while looking at pictures of the deceased on his father''s tablet. "Although, who ever designed her look and, well, assets was an artist in my opinion. She''s every teenage boys wet dream isn''t she Detective?"

    I cocked my head and thought about that. A nagging idea not quite forming yet demanding attention. "Yea she''s a looker sir. That''s for sure."

    "Yes. Well to bring my son back on topic, I have sent you over the client information and the drop off location of this order, however I must also point out the delivery was intercepted by a drone sign off."

    "One other peculiarity,¡± Sir Mellon said, holding his left hand up in a stiff, straight-armed pose¡ªeither striking the dignified man-with-a-point stance or discreetly checking if his deodorant had expired. ¡°When I said the patents were for this suit, I was technically incorrect. They were actually for a series of lingerie and negligee pieces, all with the same dimensions, picked up three weeks before the suit order.

    The suit? Pre-paid. Fake name. Fake address.

    But the previous order? Requested, paid for, and picked up in person¡ªby one Mateo Falieri.

    At the time, it seemed like normal escapade behavior for my clients. But looking further, he¡¯s an Italian liaison to Tulanto.

    And, if our sources are right, a suspected member of AISE¡ªthe Italian intelligence agency. However, it seems he has gone back to Italia as of 2 weeks ago."

    Yeah, an Italian spook fits the profile. Even if she wasn¡¯t top-of-the-line for us, she¡¯d be years ahead of anything the rest of the world had.

    Our boy probably thought he was sneaking out his very own Pussy Galore¡ªuntil she went critical.

    Definitely a lead worth taking to the consulate.

 Ch.5 - Dead Ends and Departures

    We headed back to mansion on the hill to meet up with TAI and AG in the flesh. It was a quiet ride back with Frank sometimes mumbling about not being able to afford anything from Tailor the World. I had other things on my mind, like where this case was going to go after we basically handed it off to the Italian consulate. If this really was spy business, they¡¯d kill the lead on arrival¡ªalong with any chance we had of chasing it further. That meant one thing: back to old-school detective work.

    "Hey Frank, we''re going to have to do a dragnet on all the cams and see where this Frankenstein of ours has been in the last couple months. Ya know, who she''s been with, how they interact, and all that."

    "Already on it Dick. I got some of the newbies running down soft leads and making a timeline as we speak. TAI is cranking on archival footage as well. How''s that coming along TAI?"

    Frank calls me ¡®Dick¡¯ a lot, well, because it is my name, but also because he likes to remind me that I am one. Not quite flirting, but to some, it might come uncomfortably close.

    ¡°It¡¯s coming along nicely, Frank,¡± TAI responded¡ªon the car radio for once. ¡°In between running an entire nation¡¯s commerce, managing bureaucracy, and dealing with elected representatives, I might be able to squeeze in your little request. Appreciate the extra workload¡ªwhat a Big Bad G-Man you are, Frank. Never change.¡±

    I almost choked my coffee out at that. TAI is usually reserved, but when she snarks, she really knows how. I blame the politics. We got to the hill a little after 5 p.m., with the sun still holding onto about an hour of light. The palm trees swayed in the blustery tropical wind, the rain long gone. Hard to believe today started with a cat joke and a lonely kid¡ªtime flies when you¡¯re really confused, I guess.

    We pulled up to the Great Hall, stepping out while the car parked itself in the staff lot around back.

    Though technically the monarchy¡¯s residence, the mansion functioned more like an office building than a home. Data centers, real organics hustling through office spaces, and more than a few special-use androids crawled around the place like ants, handling the hard work that needed doing.

    The building¡¯s regal front had vertical tooling along its walls¡ªto the untrained eye, it was just an aesthetic flourish, but in reality, those structures were micro-mana absorbers, pulling atmospheric energy to offset the absurd power demands of the nation¡¯s center of control.

    By now, you might be asking about mana. And if you¡¯re one of those literature-gaming freaks, you¡¯re probably wondering where and when the magic comes into play. Well, buddy, there isn¡¯t any, and it doesn¡¯t¡ªgrow up already.

    What there is, though, is a new form of energy that AG discovered¡ªor rather, rediscovered¡ªand used to disrupt the entire world¡¯s power structure. Literally and figuratively.

    It¡¯s the same concept Nikola Tesla tried to tap into with his infamous Wardenclyffe Tower, drawing power straight from the atmosphere. He called it radiant energy.

    The world¡¯s top scientists insist on calling it Atmospheric Induction Energy.

    The more accommodating ones prefer Etheric Energy¡ªjust close enough to keep AG happy, just enough to stay in the good graces of the international community. Cowards.

    But AG? AG was a gaming nerd. He called it mana.

    And since we¡¯re the only ones who¡¯ve actually figured out how to use it for real-world, high-output applications, what we call it is what it is.

    Inside, we walked up to a reception desk, neatly tucked into the center of a hip-high, marble-like wall. On either side, security scanners stood like sentinels¡ªmaking old-school metal detectors feel like flickering lanterns in a hurricane. Entry on the left, exit on the right. Leaving required a scan too, just in case someone ¡°accidentally¡± walked out with important documents or data storage they weren¡¯t supposed to have.

    The receptionist¡ªa cute little organic in a crisp business suit and dress combo¡ªglanced at her wristwatch and yawned before spotting us. Her expression shifted to a well-practiced smile as she looked us up and down.

    ¡°Officers? Or is it Agent?¡± She glanced at Frank, then at me¡ªmy unlit cigar hanging from my mouth, my fedora tilted just enough to add some shadow. ¡°Or¡­ is it Detective?¡±

    ¡°Yes,¡± I replied.

    ¡°How¡¯d you know we were androids?¡±

    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.

    She giggled. ¡°You both look like you walked out of a history book.¡±

    ¡°Guess that¡¯s how it is here,¡± I muttered, thinking about how the Platinum security case had put us in an even smaller club. ¡°We have an appointment with TAI. Who must think this is hilarious right now.¡±

    ¡°Let me check that for you, sir.¡± She tapped her console. ¡°Ah, here it is. You¡¯re cleared for self-travel. You can head up whenever you¡¯re ready. Have a good day, sirs.¡±

    That Cheshire grin told me how entertained she was.

    Not one to let my audience down, I tilted my hat and threw out the classic line. ¡°So, what¡¯s a beautiful dame like you doing in a place like this?¡±

    She giggled again. ¡°Working! Lol.¡±

    She actually said Lol.

    I shook my head. ¡°Well, you keep up the good work, ma¡¯am.¡± Another hat tilt, another eye-roll from Frank as we turned the corner toward TAI¡¯s office.

    We could still hear her giggling as we walked off.

    ¡°You proud of yourself now?¡± Frank muttered, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye.

    I smirked. ¡°Gotta keep the illusion up when it¡¯s expected, Frank.¡±

    "Sure Dick"

    On the third floor of the north wing, we knocked on a set of twelve-foot mahogany doors. Quite an impressive sight if you were moved by such things. A way to impress¡ªand to intimidate both foreign and local dignitaries before the game even starts.

    "Just come in. Drop the theatrics" TAI talked into our heads.

    The mahogany double doors swung open without a sound, revealing a space designed for quiet intimidation. The room was vast, yet sparsely decorated¡ªa minimalist¡¯s idea of power. The walls were a mix of deep wood paneling and sleek, unblemished beige, a blend of old-world authority and modern efficiency.

    A single sitting table and four chairs dominated the center, the kind that didn¡¯t need ornate carvings or gold accents to make a statement. It was a solid, heavy, beautifully crafted kind of furniture that could withstand the weight of empires. No throne, no royal excess¡ªjust presence. Presence and hot scolding coffee with desserts. My type of man.

    Floor-to-ceiling windows stretched across the far wall, offering an uninterrupted view of Tulanto below. The ocean shimmered in the fading sunlight, flood walls cutting dark silhouettes against the water¡ªlike scars on the horizon. From here, the entire city looked small¡ªmanageable. Controlled.

    At the table sat AG, dressed in a simple, well-cut Mellon branded suit that spoke of old money and quiet authority. Across from him, in perfect posture, was TAI in her android form¡ªtrue to name she was a Thai beauty of impossible symmetry, slight of bossom, and her expression unreadable, her presence almost too fluid to be human.

    Everything about this room was deliberate. A place where deals were made, wars were prevented, and control was absolute.

    Frank and I took three steps into the room and automatically took a knee into a full hip bow.

    AG looked down at us with a slight irritation on his face. "Get up, we have too much to do to rely on formalities."

    "This is why I didn''t want that added to the baseline" he said to TAI.

    "Formality is necessary for function Alistair." TAI replied in her typical nonchalant way.

    "Ridiculous TAI, this is all just so ridiculous at times. And you two, would you kindly treat me like any one else unless otherwise told".

    And just like that, I wasn¡¯t kneeling before my sworn liege¡ªI was standing in front of a respected elder. Hard to fight programming when it¡¯s written into your bones. Harder still when the old man actually feels like someone worth kneeling for.

    "So, we''ve been keeping tabs on the two of you since the discovery and we know about the Italians. That''s not going to go anywhere through official channels. They, and every other nation, have been trying to get to our tech for decades now, but this is the first time they outright came after our androids since it''s kinda hard to sneak an official model out. This here introduces a new paradigm to our anti-theft programs." AG said in his confident yet warm voice.

    Not a baritone type of voice, but instead a light tenor. Obviously AG was not one to ever need to raise his voice so  he had an ambient, perfectly pitched, voice for quite conversation.

    He had gotten up at some point and was pouring two cups of hot coffee on the table and then offered them to both Frank and I.

    "Sit. We''ll discuss your next steps. I had TAI send you over historical reference to external, umm , problems of the past for context." AG said taking a break to take a bite of a really good looking apple danish. "So, I think we need one of you to go over there and maybe ask a few questions in person to our Mr. Falieri. As well, we have some contacts in the local information trade over there who may be able to help with the more local view of things. Obviously, it''s not a good look for us if we transmitted that info. The nations take interest in even our detritus these days so a data dump from a known info broker would be nothing but a huge red flag for all. I''ll let the two of you decide the details, but maybe Agent Parker here could go as he looks more the part, but again it''s up to you two to decide."

    I could sense Franks ears perk up at the unintended praise and felt him straighten up to speak and probably accept that part of the case when he said "Actually your majesty, I think Frank is better with people then me. And given that the Italians aren''t as exposed to a real android their expectations are less forgiving then the populace here."

    "Yes, I agree" TAI said. "We need someone to blend nicely with the human populace, and besides Franks attire, he tends to come off as a "cute" throw back to most. I think he''ll do nicely for this part of the mission.

    "Sheesh, TAI, tell me how you really feel".

    "Fine. You and I have a date when this is over. Dress nicely¡ªI expect dinner and dancing".

    I looked at TAI waiting for the punch line. The room was eerily quiet.

    "Fine. Thai food good?" I asked. To which she smirked and nodded.

    "Ah, my children grow up so fast." AG said breaking the thick tension that had grown. "Kay, get your things in order. I want you to go see Dr. Vance and get some upgrades before heading out. TAI will setup your diplomatic credentials. Frank, stay back to discuss our local findings and what''s next."

 Ch.6 - Packing Light, Leaving Heavy

    As directed, I headed downstairs and across to the West side of the building where the ''Ministry of Android and Artificial Operations'' was located. Big name for what basically accounted for a government research institute. This is where Dr. Elliot Vance''s offices were located.

    The second floor offices were glass encased in super secure plastics that have come to symbolize high tech superiority here on the island. If the warehouse tinting tech is practical and made out of a concern for utility, these walls simply screamed ostentatious. The slight blurring prevented information leaks¡ªbut if you could count the people inside, was it really secure?

    I walked to the single door and rang the bell for entry to be stopped by a overly digitized voice.

    "Please stand still for deep scan and access verification. DetectionUnitK192 confirmed. Please leave all weapons in the bin and continue in." at which point a large, filing-cabinet-like bin ejected from the wall.

    I stared at the bin, and not having a gun, since we hardly ever need them on the Island, I took off my fedora and placed it in the bin.

    "Done." I said and walked toward the door and entered the office.

    The office looked pretty big and had the last drags of work obsessed people in the process of leaving their desk to go home for the night. Behind me two large robots stood guard on either side of the door I had just walked through. One of them passed me my hat.

    "Here you go Kay. Sorry about that." It texted me. I titled my hat to it and wrote back "Vance, where''s he at?".

    "10 minutes ago, on his couch watching TV, at the moment probably putting his jacket on to meet you."

    At that very second Dr. Elliot Vance came walking around the corner.

    "Ah, Unit K192, please come with me."

    "Kay is fine."

    "K192, we haven''t all night. Lets get your upgrades in place and let me get back to my research."

    "Sure thing, Doc 2938-P25. That''s your employee ID. I can do ID''s too."

    Vance stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to look at me. We stared at each other and played a game he could never win.

    "I think you got under his skin Kay".

    That came in text format from the security bot, I nicknamed Lefty.

    "Aw, I hope he doesn''t tell us to see you out. That would be awkward." Righty texted behind.

    The robots looked like a combination of the droids from Star Wars and those of Boston Dynamic and were about 8 feet tall to my 6''2". Although no copyright claim was going to happen because unlike the boxy forms of either of the aforementioned robots, these were slick looking and almost aerodynamic. Hydraulic systems proudly presented the working gears of their locomotion. However their shoulders were colored in Republic like ways. Sure, they could push me around¡ªif they avoided getting hacked first. In a straight fight, they¡¯d always lose. But boy, did they give off the right vibe of intimidation to those not in the know.

    "Ok, my... apologies Kay." Vance said, forcing the use of my name. "Shall we?"

    "Sure" I said. "These droids gonna tag along too?" I asked.

    "Please No!" Lefty texted me.

    "This is the cushy job, as it''s the furthest from him." Righty followed up. I grinned at the gossiping divas antics.

    "No. They are at post for a reason Kay. This here is a Bronze level area Kay." He said spreading his arms and spinning around like the tool he was. "Where we go now is a Silver level area Kay. I know you may not really understand the scope of what we do here, but this is your birthplace -- and it does a lot more then just island security Kay."

    "Silver. I see" I said with a smirk that simply would not wipe itself from my face. "Is there a General type unit to oversee these droids in this Silver space of yours?"

    We were walking to the back of the hallway toward an elevator bank when I said that, and Vance slowed to a stop and looked at me, annoyance and disbelief on his face. Poker was definitely not his game.

    "I did not build droids Kay and there is absolutely no General Grievous in this building Kay!"

    "Odd how you knew the reference though, isn''t it?"

    "Oh no. I think he''s going to cancel his Crunchy Bowl subscription now" Righty scrolled by with laughing emoticons from various other what I assume were droids in the building.

    "Nah, I''m sure his subscription is on auto-renew." I replied to another round of laughter.

    At that, we stopped in front of the elevator bank, where a green laser scanned us up and down again.

    "Welcome back Professor Vance. Welcome back DetectionUnitK192" a digital voice spoke into the air.

    "Sorry Kay, genius is as is, but he really needs his  theater, y''know?", Audrey, the elevators AI, texted me.

    "Its all good. We all gotta keep up those illusions, doll." I texted back.

    "Audrey, give us a ride to the lab please. Your brother here has an appointment for a check up it seems." Vance said with a snide grin.

    "I just hope you take my insurance Audrey." I said watching a man who had just lost his thunder.

    "Of course we do. Dick"

    We made the drop to the sub level with no further comments or intrusions. The mirror plated elevator took quite a while to get to its intended floor. Not that it was slow as you could feel the inertia of the speed. No, just that the sub level of the Android development lab was pretty far underground is all.

    The good doctor handled the deafening quiet surprisingly well. To be expected of someone who was used to riding in a mirrored elevator for minutes upon minutes every day.

    I''d have to ask Audrey if she had any clips of him picking his teeth or something in the mirrors.

    I could see him doing that as he seems oblivious to the inner life of AI and how it connected with him personally.

    Honestly, people on the Island were almost too comfortable with AI these days. Me? I wouldn¡¯t trust them. Self-hating droid? Maybe.

    The elevator doors finally opened with an old school ding, revealing a pristine, climate-controlled lab, the kind where even dust particles feared to tread. The walls were lined with semi-holographic displays that popped off of the screen but would disappear if seen from the side, blueprint projections on a giant 200 inch screen, and neatly labeled components in vacuum-sealed compartments. Everything about the room screamed efficiency and order.

    That is, until you looked at Vance¡¯s personal workstation¡ªa disaster zone of half-dismantled prototype hands, exposed servos, and a coffee mug dangerously close to a neural interface pad. The only thing keeping it from looking like a junkyard was the fact that every single component was worth more than most people¡¯s homes.

    To the left, rows of synthetic limbs hung on adjustable racks, some appearing fully human, others half-exposed to show the micro-servos beneath. A few even twitched occasionally, running automated dexterity tests.

    Further in, three incomplete android shells rested in containment chambers, their unlit eyes staring blankly outward¡ªhalf-finished designs waiting for activation.

    <i>At the back of the lab, a large suspended platform displayed the next-generation AI body prototype¡ªits skeletal frame sleek, wrapped in skin on either side like an unrolled burrito. The effect was unsettling¡ªalmost alien in design.</i>

    Vance stepped in ahead of me, arms wide like a magician about to unveil his masterpiece.

    "Mr Kay... meet Mr Kay." Pointing to the next-gen model. "Of course some modifications are needed, can''t just give you a prototype body after all" he said mumbling afterward "with their breakdown cycle you wouldn''t last a year."

    "No a few changes and you''ll be all set with this new M36 model. Bespoke body-- ten times better than factory models."

    "A new body? There... has to be a better way." I said as shocked as I''d been in years.

    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

    "Well, yeah, we could give you an upgrade serum--but there''s no time... also TAI was very insistent on this, you are slated for the newest model, just like hers. Looks like your going places, Kay."

    "Yea, to a Thai restaurant on Broadway and Main, and possibly to the CocoBall for a dance or two." I said to a man lost in a conversation that escaped him.

    "Right." Vance said trying to get control of the conversation again. "So. Please undress, upload your back-up on that station there and move unto the induction plate when you are ready." the geek said with the enthusiasm of seeing a real life Pokemon. Something I had no doubt he would build one day.

    "Wait, tell me exactly what this upgrade consist of. Why am I getting... this" I said looking at the exposed cadaver that was currently split open midway through and suspended in front of us."

    "Ah of course. This is the best part I suppose. Now please ignore these rashes here as this model has been actively aging due to some of our test and won''t be an issue on a production model of course. But you can see here at the cervical alignment that the weight ratio has been..." He tech vomited, as I interrupted him.

    "Wait. I don''t understand. We don''t age. Our skin never ages as it''s reconstructed by our nano-bots or so I''m told. Whatever, all I know is we don''t age."

    "Well of course you don''t age, you''re a production model. This... this is a prototype Kay. They have a purposefully induced aging and breakdown structure built right into the substructure. The machines for this unit and a production unit are vastly different. Actually, I''m the only one in the world that has equipment that can do either actually." He said with a cocksure smile.

    "Prototypes. They age? Do they get rashes that cause their skin to be sensitive by chance? Are the bodies traceable like production types?", I asked getting an inkling about our victim.

    "Yes, of course they¡¯re traceable¡ªwhat an idiotic question. Why add anti-theft if we couldn¡¯t track them!? And yes, they age as part of that system. In the completely absurd event that we somehow lost a prototype and couldn¡¯t find it¡ªagain, absurd, absolutely absurd¡ªthen the fail safe ensures it removes itself from commission over time. Still study-able but, better a dead prototype then an active one. My idea by the way. Never trust your tech to be infallible I always say."

    "Dr. Vance. Do they die of old age? Or is there something else?"

    "Kay you are being a bit morbid here. If we can just get back to your new body then we can..." He started to say before a voice came over the lab speakers.

    "Please answer the question Dr Vance." AG said.

    "Oh, of course my liege. Um, uh, no they don''t age out, but instead the neural network in the skin starts to degrade. The degradation itself will eventually fail and any number of malfunctions can occur within the unit, from motor locomotion failing, to electrical shortages to even explosion of the mana unit in the lower back."

    "Electrical shortage you say. Sir, I assume Dr Vance is is cleared for Platinum." I asked into the air.

    "Indeed he is. We should have brought him and Gerald into this sooner actually." AG said over the PA.

    I pulled out my phone and showed the photos of the victim to him.

    <i>¡°Yes, this is exactly how it would look. Though, to be clear, this is the first time we¡¯ve actually seen the anti-theft system in action. We have a strict chain of custody policy¡ªwe always know where every unit is. But good to know those extra three years I insisted on for this feature paid off.¡±</i>

    <i>¡°I need this body, Kay. The data it holds on how the anti-theft system actually played out is invaluable. Also¡­ I suppose I can ID the printer for you.¡±</i> He said it with the smugness of a man who thought he was the smartest in the room.

    <i>¡°Yes. Good job, Elliot. Superb job on this. I¡¯ll have TAI send you the body. Kay, I¡¯ll let you get back to your upgrade.¡±</i>

    "Of course my liege" I said while I nodded my head to AG.

    "Him, not you" I said to the smarmy geek as I pointed up to the ceiling.

    "So summing it up. New armor along the torso and hidden areas. Your face and outer hands will still look and feel human. Touch sensors are enhanced. Gerald''s new GPU will let you actually feel things now to an even further degree than humans. Same for sight and smell.", he laughed at that part and sarcastically said, "Your welcome for that by the way."

    "Faster reflexes. Finger tip processing. You can now data transfer any touch, infrared, magnetic, or mana port through the tip of your finger. We also have a multi-port touch pad for interfacing to legacy systems. Defense systems include a stiletto dagger in the heal of your palm."

    He then raised his finger to make the next point. "It will destroy your palm but it will heal back up in a few hours using your regular nano-bots. Just... dunno, put a bandage on it, I guess." Shrugging as if a huge hole in my hand was no big deal

    "Also¡ªthis one¡¯s not part of your body, but we¡¯ve got a new mana-based coil accelerator pistol for you. It runs off your internal mana reserves, meaning as long as you¡¯ve got air to breathe, you¡¯ve got power for the gun. You provide the bullets, Kay. Finally¡­ your new body''s mana recharge is three times better in terms of speed and quantity of voltage. Any questions? No. Good." He finished his rant by taking a deep breath and pointed toward the induction recharge station that the prototypes use.

    With all the nitty gritty done we called it a night. Three days later I woke up to the same face, but a new body.

    Back at the surface, I had to wait for a new cruiser since Frank took mine. Like my body, this cruiser was a newer model. I might need to have a chat with my new... girlfriend?

    First things first, I headed to my apartment on Beaker. It''s a small cozy place but it''s enough for a single guy that is married to the job. Some of the other guys on the force have hobbies and larger homes, but me, I like keeping my life as straight and focused as an arrow hitting a target. It works for me and I see no need of changing it up any time soon.

    As I approached my apartment I saw a familiar face waiting for me in front. Timmy was reading his tablet like that lost puppy he was as I walked over to him.

    "Hey kid, what brings you around?" I asked waiting for obvious.

    "Hey Kay! I had TAI ping me when you''d be back online. She said you got an upgrade. Anything cool!?"

    "A few nicks and knacks here and there, just staying above inflation type of deal. Ya got another work study going or is this strictly a social visit?" I delivered to the kid. He seemed agitated and had something on his mind so I''d give him the chance to unload. I knew for a fact that he really didn''t pull any friends along with him pass his middle school years. Probably ostracized for being too smart or too famous due to his dad''s reputation. I was probably the only "friend" he had was my guess.

    "Gee, Kay¡­ I guess it is social." he said with a bit of a frown on his face, probably just realizing it himself.

    We walked up the three flights up to my version of the Fortress of Solitude¡ªminus the heroism of course. One bedroom. One chair. One too many coffee rings on the desk. It¡¯s not much, but it¡¯s mine. The fridge hums like a lonely jazz saxophonist, keeping nothing but a tray of ice cubes cold. The bed? Looks like it gets used, but no one really sleeps in it. It¡¯s quiet here¡ªquiet enough to think. That¡¯s all I need.

    ¡°Oh,¡± Timmy said, the illusion cracking¡ªthe first of many heartbreaks, I¡¯m sure¡ªas he saw a hero reduced to nothing more than a man.

    ¡°Yeah, kid, not everyone¡¯s got a big house on a hill. But happiness ain¡¯t about getting what you want¡ªit¡¯s about being happy with what you got.¡±

    ¡°No, no, it¡¯s neat,¡± he said, lying through his teeth as he glanced around.

    I shrugged off my long coat, hung it on the closet hook, and draped my blazer over the back of the chair before sinking into it. Then, with a nod toward the bed, I told him to sit.

    ¡°What¡¯s eating at ya, kid?¡± I finally just asked the million-dollar question.

    ¡°Ah, nothing really. Hey, where¡¯s your induction charger? Is it at the precinct?¡± He deflected.

    ¡°Nah, production models don¡¯t need induction chargers. We convert mana through our skin to charge. Only prototypes need those. Now back to the question¡ªwhat¡¯s up?¡±

    ¡°Yeah, guess nothing gets by you, Kay,¡± he muttered, fidgeting. ¡°Umm¡­ let¡¯s say you had a female friend. A partner, okay? And she was kinda¡­ having you do things you really weren¡¯t ready for yet. How would you go about dissuading her without, ya know, her dragging your reputation through the mud or even getting the authorities involved?¡±

    He shrugged, but it didn¡¯t hide the weight behind his words. Then he looked up at me.

    Typical puberty B.S. Thank god I got to skip all that.

    ¡°Well, first thing¡ªif the authorities are involved, it¡¯s already an issue. So let¡¯s hope that ain¡¯t the case. But otherwise? It¡¯s up to you, kid. If you¡¯re being pushed into something you don¡¯t want, just say no. At this stage in your life, ain¡¯t nothing so important that a ¡®no¡¯ is gonna cause more than some minced words and a death stare.¡±

    "Ah, yea. Got it. Man up, basically." Timmy said, slight disappointment in his tone. But I wasn¡¯t about to rescue the kid from something I had no right sticking my nose in.

    "That all kid? How''s your course work coming along?"

    "Yea, thats it I guess. School''s coming along swell. One more class and I can choose my final internship. TAI said that she approved me to work in the Mansion with AG''s staff! AG himself!" Timmy said, his mood instantly back to popping. "After that I get to choose from acceptance letters into the workforce. Well, not everyone gets that but I already have automatic acceptance letters from my dad''s department, and Dr Vance''s department ''cause I interned for both, and oddly enough I have one from the BioArticial Development department on reputation and grades alone! That one is kinda creepy, if I must say." And he screwed up his face as he said it.

    Not that the kid was wrong. The BioArtifical Development department basically grew organic tissue to test new AI driven medication and vaccine testing. No more human blind test for us. Now we made humans in a test jar, inflicted them with cancer and then applied medicine to see if it went away. Some branches of the department also researched integrating biological components into androids. That part? Absolute nightmare fuel.

    "Well can''t go wrong with the first two, thats for sure. The latter? Takes a special type of someone for that job is all I can say." I said, pulling up some of the newly available historical cases that AG gave me access to for context in our last meeting which concerned  BioArtificial projects.

    "Well, I hate to rush you off, but I need to pack my bags. Got a trip to interrogate an international. I''ll be back soon enough though, you can update me on your little communication problem and the result  then, OK?"

    "Oh yea, sure Kay. Hey, and, uh, thanks for all the time you lend me by the way. I really appreciate it."

    "No problem kid, that''s what I''m here for."

    The kid saw himself out and I packed my clothes for a two week trip. Not that I packed a lot since lack of sweat glands meant not really any stinky clothes. Just replacements in case something got dirty. I took my new pistol out of its sleek new case that Vance gave me and strapped the holster to my belt. Any body could use the new recoil weapon, if they happened to also be able to power it. And since its worked on mana only and only via my body''s internal siphoning conversion, I doubt it would be useful to anyone other then for research. And to that, a nice little explosive was included to the hilt with a remote detonate. I wondered how TAI got that approved for travel but not really, not my worry. As long as I didn''t go to New York City, I should be set.

    Murphy is always a funny guy. Lo and behold I landed in Venice a full two days behind schedule after a quick layover in New York City.

    And of course, that turned into a complete shit show of security theater. Apparently diplomatic immunity in Italy, does not apply to America when switching planes.

    TAI had to pull some political magic while I was held in a holding cell.

    Fun, if not boring times. Although having a lack of finger prints was somewhat fun to watch the cops try to work around.

    <i>When I landed at Marco Polo Airport in Venice, TAI rang me up in my head. Different from back home¡ªhad to actually accept the call this time. Kinda nice, actually.</i>

    "Kay, be aware that Frank has been tailed by an unregistered drone after inquiring about Falieri in the consulate. Military-grade. Stealth tech. We¡¯re tracking it now. Kay, you¡¯re in hostile waters now. Good luck." she said about to close out the communique.

    "And Kay, bring me back something nice."

    Lovely. I wonder what a good gift from a war zone looks like. Maybe she''d appreciate a grenade?

 Ch.7 - Phantoms In Tailored Suits

    Inspector Vincenzo Rinaldi met me at the airport, pulling up in a sleek, compact Alfa Romeo MiTo. He emerged from the car already mid-conversation, speaking animatedly into his earpiece in a local Italian dialect at a speed and pitch higher than standard human tolerances recommended.

    "Ah, fantastic! The pain in my ass finally arrives," he exclaimed, throwing his hands theatrically into the air as he approached. "Thanks to him, I was stuck in traffic for two hours! Expert bullshit-maker from the island who loves blowing things up¡ªwonderful! Now I''ve got to babysit his ass for the next two weeks! Gotta go!"

    He abruptly ended his call, pocketing the device, and glided to a stop in front of me, switching seamlessly to accented but impeccable English.

    "Detective Kay, benvenuto a Venezia," he said, offering a sarcastic flourish of his hand. "I''m sure your stay will be as resplendent as possible with all the beauty that our fair city has to offer Detective."

    "I''m sure it''ll show me what it wants to show." I  responded with a firm handshake. I met his grip firmly but didn¡¯t return the squeeze. If I did, I might crush his hand, and that wouldn¡¯t be great for international relations.

    This also told me something pretty important. They didn''t know I was an Android.

    "I''d like to stop at my hotel quickly to drop off my clothes and then goto headquarters to see your setup If that¡¯s possible, Inspector¡­ Rin¡­ Rinaldi? May I call you Vinny? Just easier for me. I''m not that great with names."

    The curly-haired man simply nodded, mumbling a quick, dismissive ¡®Certo, certo¡¯ as he popped open the back hatch. I shoved my large bag inside and swung the hatch closed¡ªnearly taking my fingers with it.

    I managed to cram myself into the front seat, my knees in front of my face and the headrest cramming me forward. Luckily I couldn''t feel pain or discomfort so I simply grunted for appearances and looked out the window to the 15 minute ride to my hotel.

    Vinny narrated the streets like a tour guide, rattling off the best gelato spots and historical tidbits between complaints about tourists. I let him talk, filing away the useful details while staring out at the canals and tight alleyways.

    TAI had set me up at the NH Venezia Santa Lucia¡ªa sleek junior suite, just flashy enough to convince the locals I was an important AI security consultant sent from Tulanto, and sufficiently discreet for private investigation. More importantly the hotel was a quick walk to the Venice police headquarters, known as Questura di Venezia in the Santa Croce district.

    Like many hotels it overlooked the Grand Canal, and was a picture enthusiast wet dream. Luckily for me everything I saw was computer vision and yet another series of pictures.

    I registered at the front desk and had them take up the luggage. I didn''t really need to see or enjoy the room that I would hardly be in, so I turned around and told Vinny that I''d like to walk over. The joy on Vinny''s face at the prospect was so evident on his jolly round face that even his thick hanging mustache seemed to be smiling.

    As we walked at my pace, he filled the time talking about the beauty of Venice and places to take me to enjoy the bounties of the historic city. By the time we reached the Questura, Vinny was breathing like a man who¡¯d just climbed five flights of stairs, his mustache twitching with every labored inhale. He barely reached my shoulder, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in stamina¡ªjust enough to keep up and still complain the whole way.

    We entered the headquarters through a back door reserved for police officers. Vinny got me set up with my clearance papers at a slow, deliberate pace.

    I heard him bad mouth me to at least 3 different officers between that time and finally we got to meet the Chief Domenico Conti.

    "Hello, Detective Kay, I hope you arrived in good health" he said in Italian, which was interpreted by Vinny.

    I winked at Vinny, and replied back in Italian, ¡°I¡¯ve had worse trips, Chief. I¡¯ve been looking forward to sharing my island¡¯s best practices with you. Ready to start the audit immediately.¡± To say Vinny was surprised would be an understatement.

    We spoke for about thirty minutes as I outlined the five W¡¯s of my cyber-expert cover assignment¡ªa simple task for me.

    Leaving the office, Vinny tailed behind me as we went to the Cybersecurity department, and asked me why I didn''t tell him I knew Italian.

    ¡°You didn¡¯t ask. Figured you were practicing your English.¡± I said it straight-faced, but I caught the way Vinny¡¯s mustache bristled in annoyance. Worth it.

    I plugged in a PD issued loaner laptop and got to work examining their data feeds from various sources including Interpol, five eyes, NYPD, FBI, and other law enforcement intelligence organizations world wide. People never realize how internationally connected international cities really are.

    I set up a Datamart¡ªa specialized database that pulled specifically flagged intelligence from agentic AI routines. Basically it filtered out the noise, linked like issues, flagged anomalies from multiple sources, and compiled them into reports for review.

    I linked up with TAI for field updates and to verify my work¡ªshe had me scale back the app before I published it to the network. In two hours, I had produced what a human team would take a year or two to accomplish.

    With that done, I tested out my new toy¡ªthe legacy touchpad¡ªto pull Italy¡¯s intelligence reports from AISE through a series of proxies.

    Surprisingly, there wasn¡¯t much in digital format. Most files referenced dead drops¡ªbut never where to find them.

    I guess the spooks¡¯ cloak-and-dagger playbook banned digital storage. Smart.

    Now I had to find a lead¡ªin a city I didn¡¯t know, on the other side of the world¡ªwith my very own Italian version of Inspector Clouseau shadowing me. First order of business: ditch the guy.

    The guy was slumped behind me, bored out of his mind, playing a pay-to-win phone game¡ªand judging by the number of transactions, he was definitely paying. He sat in an old chair that must¡¯ve come with the building, its creaky frame protesting every time he shifted. I think I even heard him snore once or twice.

    I turned around and said to him "Ah, finally done!".

    He jolted upright, processing what I¡¯d just said, then broke into a grin. ¡®Great! It¡¯s just about dinner time, and I know this fantastic restaurant with a beautiful bar! You¡¯re gonna love it!¡¯

    "Sounds super, champ. But first, one last task before we call it a night. Actually, Vinny, I could use your help. I¡¯ve got reports to cross-check against Interpol and local databases to validate this Datamart¡¯s output¡ªshouldn¡¯t take more than three hours. Mostly just verifying case codes and running compliance checks. Tedious, but important. You in?"

    I¡¯d actually finished that over an hour ago, but he didn¡¯t need to know that.

    "Ehhh, you know, actually, I want to¡ªbut look at the time, Kay! You¡¯re a beast of burden! I¡¯ve got a family! I gotta handle things back at home, you know how it is, right? If I leave you here, you got this, yeah? No problem getting back to the hotel, no?"

    ¡°Oh, yeah, no worries. Get home. I¡¯ll see you here later.¡±

    And with that, the small man threw on his blazer and I assumed he would slip out of the building as fast and quietly as possible.

    "Detective, the Chief must like you already, he told me to tell you that he''s getting questions about you for outside sources."

    ¡°Noted,¡± I said, waving him off. ¡°See you later, Vinny.¡±

    I stayed another hour mostly to amuse myself, before heading to the hotel.

    AISE had been tracing the breach for a while now, but I kept rerouting them¡ªbouncing my signal through half a dozen international servers, dragging them in circles. I gave them false leads, set up temporary decoys, even let them think they were closing in a few times before pulling the rug out from under them. If they¡¯re already asking questions, might as well keep them entertained.

    The night air was cool, and the streets were quiet. I took my time, hands in my pockets, watching the city move. AISE was probably still tripping over their own feet. I¡¯d check in on them later.

    Then¡ªbump.

    It wasn¡¯t much. Just enough pressure to register as someone passing too close in an otherwise empty street. I could check the footage later if it was anything. I kept walking, but my right hand grazed my coat pocket on instinct.

    Something was inside that hadn¡¯t been there before.

    No footsteps followed. No hurried retreat. Just Venice, moving like it always did.

    I waited until I reached the next streetlamp before checking¡ªand found a note written in Japanese. 11 PM. Harry¡¯s Bar. Mai.

    Looks like I had plans tonight after all.

    I shot TAI a quick update. She replied that the name was a generic cover, which I already had guessed.

    I decided to take the 25 minute walk over to the legendary bar instead of taking a Vaporetto and risking wet suit pants. I took off my tie, placed it into my pocket and bit into the tail end of my cigar. I should make it to the bar about 10 minutes before 11pm at my current pace.

    Harry¡¯s Bar wasn¡¯t just a bar. It was an institution. The fact that Mai picked this place meant that I was basically already in a Bond story. May as well accept it and live up to the illusion. Obviously someone went to great lengths to speak to me, and I wouldn''t leave them disappointed.

    If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    I hit St. Mark¡¯s Square and took a moment to look around. Even at this hour, it was busy¡ªpeople moving to and fro at a rapid pace.

    During the walk, I studied the tape of Mai slipping me the note and found that the Mai in that tape¡ªunless deliberately misleading¡ªwasn¡¯t a woman. So either he was a guy, or she had a partner. My espionage training strongly suggested the latter.

    It was time to take my AI Unit¡¯s theoretical knowledge, stack it against real-world neural network experience, and see how well they aligned.

    I stepped through the doors of Harry¡¯s Bar, the soft murmur of conversation mixing with the clink of glasses and the faint scent of old wood and fresh cocktails. The place wasn¡¯t large¡ªjust a handful of tables, warm lighting, and the quiet hum of money in the air.

    The ma?tre d¡¯, a wiry man in a crisp white jacket, looked me over the way only seasoned staff in places like this could¡ªpolite, practiced, and subtly assessing if I belonged. I didn¡¯t hesitate.

    ¡°Table for two. She¡¯ll meet me.¡±

    The phrasing wasn¡¯t a request. It wasn¡¯t a question. Just a statement.

    The ma?tre d¡¯ gave a professional nod and gestured toward a table near the side of the room¡ªgood sight lines, discreet enough, but not in a forgotten corner. Smart choice.

    As I settled into my seat, the ma?tre d¡¯ took a step back, giving me the slightest nod before turning to leave. Smooth, professional¡ªjust like I expected.

    I slipped a folded bill between my fingers and let my hand drift just enough for him to notice. No theatrics. No need for words.

    He paused, then took it with the same quiet efficiency, the exchange lasting less than a second.

    ¡°For the hospitality,¡± I said, barely above a murmur.

    ¡°Naturally, sir,¡± he replied, tucking it away without so much as a glance.

    He didn¡¯t need to check how much it was. He knew it was enough.

    I slid into the chair and let my fingers drum lightly against the tabletop, taking in the room. Wealthy regulars, quiet tourists trying to pretend they weren¡¯t, a couple of older gentlemen locked in hushed conversation over whiskey. Classic scene.

    A waiter appeared almost immediately, dressed in the same pristine uniform, already holding a menu. I pulled a bill from my pocket and slid it across the table before he could say a word. Not ostentatious, not a bribe¡ªjust an introduction.

    ¡°I expect good service,¡± I said, voice even. ¡°And a quiet table.¡±

    He barely glanced at the bill before tucking it away, his nod almost imperceptible.

    ¡°Of course, sir.¡±

    I leaned back and bit down lightly on the tail end of my cigar¡ªunlit, but enough to keep my hands busy. The drink could wait. For now, I wanted to see if my ghost would actually show up.

    And show up she did. Miss Mai walked into the bar like she owned the place, tall confident with strong legs that went on for days.

    Harry''s Bar was sure to have seen it''s fair share of beautiful women, some bold, and others dangerous, but this dame pulled them all together into a coup de grace that few others could match by demeanor alone.

    She saw me right away and walked directly to me. The ma?tre d¡¯ simply looked at me and nodded, as I nodded back.  Mai''s red dress, a red that was deep and closer to blood or burgundy then anything Hollywood sell you in a cheap weekend movie. It was the kind of red that spoke volumes about its filler, the kind of red that didn''t need to announce itself as it already knew you were looking.

    The fabric hung her just enough to be elegant and yet still told a story of what could be. It glided rather than clung. The slit just high enough to be dangerous.

    And Kay had seen plenty of women in plenty of dresses in his time, but for some reason, one specific woman sat in his mind¡ªperched in a chair at a table that could hold up empires. Maybe that chat with TAI has to happen sooner than later.

    "Mr. Richard Kay, it''s a pleasure to finally meet you, my name is Mai Kobayashi, and I hope we can have an interesting conversation tonight." she said in fluent English.

    I stood and took her offered hand, "Pleasure is all mine mam" I said in fluent Japanese--setting the language for the night, and gently kissed the top, following around to pull her chair out like a real man should.

    Sitting back down, I let her order her drinks and when the waiter left I asked the question of the moment.

    "I couldn''t help but notice that a lot of these bathrooms here don''t have toilet paper. Does that seem odd to you Ms. Kobayashi?"

    Her laugh was as beautiful as the rest of her, and I couldn''t help but notice men look over as she giggled to my joke.

    ¡°So, now that the ice is broken, Ms. Kobayashi¡ª¡±

    She interrupted smoothly. ¡°Call me Mai.¡±

    ¡°Fine, Mai. Call me Kay. So, what did you want to see me about?¡±

    She leaned forward slightly, resting an elbow on the table as she swirled her drink. ¡°So, what would you say to the idea of¡­ say, six or seven Tulanto androids being illegally imported here over the last year?¡± She let the number sit there, just long enough to measure my reaction before continuing. ¡°Would that get a guy like you to finally accept Italy¡¯s open invitation to tech trade¡ªespecially after Mt. Etna? You know, after the last time?¡±

    I took a slow sip of my drink, letting the moment stretch before answering. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know, Mai.¡±

    A flicker of something crossed her face¡ªnot surprise, just calculation. She tilted her glass, watching the liquid shift. ¡°I just find it odd that the isolationist island, out of the blue, suddenly offers assistance to Italy of all places.¡± Her voice stayed even, but there was a deliberate slowness to her words now, like she was circling a point. ¡°I would think they already served your purposes once, right Kay? No need to piss them off again.¡±

    I rolled the glass in my hand, letting the condensation bead on my fingers. ¡°For the record, they did invite us in to help that time¡ªand we did.¡± I let that sit before adding, ¡°Ten thousand people in Zafferana Etnea are alive today because of us.¡±

    She didn¡¯t blink. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know, Kay. I just know what I read.¡±

    I smirked. ¡°Indeed. Gotta keep up one¡¯s illusions, Mai.¡±

    We drank in silence.

    Then, without missing a beat, she shifted gears. ¡°Bidets, Kay.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow.

    ¡°The cleanest method of toiletry,¡± she said, taking a slow sip of her drink.

    I leaned back slightly, watching her now, not the other way around.

    ¡°No need to clean up your mess if you execute perfectly, Kay. That''s why there is no toilet paper. Call it a test of skill¡± she said, laughing off the silliness of the statement.

    I let the words hang in the air before giving her a cheeky smile. ¡°Again, I wouldn¡¯t know.¡±

    She rolled her eyes, amused, but then something flickered behind them¡ªsomething shifting, recalculating.

    Her smirk lingered, but I could see the wheels turning now. The joke had landed, sure, but now she was thinking.

    A stupid answer after a series of perfect ones? No. That wasn¡¯t a stupid answer.

    It was a perfect answer.

    She swallowed lightly, the kind of movement most people wouldn¡¯t notice. ¡°Um¡­¡± she started, clearing her throat. ¡°Uh¡­ are¡ªwould you happen to be one?¡±

    I didn¡¯t blink. Didn¡¯t flinch. Just rolled the ice in my glass and met her eyes.

    ¡°Are we that close already, Mai? I¡¯m not asking you about your chromosomes yet, am I?¡±

    She blinked, just once, but it was enough. Now I had her attention.

    Too much attention.

    The conversation had shifted¡ªnot just from playful to serious, but from power play to something deeper, something primal.

    For the first time tonight, she wasn¡¯t thinking about the deal.

    She was thinking about what was sitting across from her. She was thinking about me.

    Her fingers were still wrapped around the stem of her glass, but when she went to set it down, there was the faintest tremor. A ripple across the surface of her drink. A soft clink of glass meeting wood, just a little off-center.

    I let the silence stretch just long enough to let her own thoughts start to turn against her. Let her feel the weight of what she had just asked. Let her wonder if she had gone too far.

    Then, right before she could decide to cut and run, I loosened the noose.

    I reached for my glass, took a slow sip, and set it down with a quiet clink. Casual. Deliberate. Grounding.

    ¡°In Tulanto, a favor is as good as gold.¡± I let that settle, watching her closely, giving her something else to focus on. Something safe.

    ¡°So I¡¯ll ask¡ªwhat kind of assistance can the great nation of Japan offer to humble little Tulanto in our time of need¡­ to possibly earn itself a favor?¡±

    The tension didn¡¯t disappear, but it shifted. Her expression flickered¡ªnot relief, but understanding.

    The tremor was gone now.

    Fear was one thing. Opportunity was another.

    And greed? That was universal.

    No immediate reaction. Just the slight shift of her posture, the controlled stillness that came when someone was deciding how much to give away.

    I just needed her to know there was a deal to be made.

    I didn¡¯t need an answer right away and motioned for another round.

    Mai exhaled softly, just barely noticeable, as she picked up her fresh drink.

    Not a retreat. A recalibration.

    She took a slow sip, letting the ice clink softly against the glass before setting it down¡ªthis time without a tremor.

    ¡°Information for a round of diplomatic talks,¡± she said finally, her tone measured, composed again. ¡°You have questions. I have answers. In return, Tulanto opens the door for a conversation between my people and yours. No commitments. Just a talk.¡±

    She was watching me closely now, gauging my reaction the way I had been gauging hers. A careful counter-move. A way to reframe the power dynamic without pushing too hard.

    I smirked, rolling the glass in my fingers. ¡°A simple conversation? You make it sound so harmless.¡±

    ¡°Because it is.¡±

    I raised an eyebrow at that.

    She smiled¡ªsmooth, practiced. Back in her element. ¡°Come on, Kay. You know how this game works. Nothing happens in a vacuum. Your island holds the single most advanced AI economy on the planet, and yet, somehow, you still pretend you¡¯re just a footnote in global politics.¡±

    I let the words hang between us for a moment before replying, ¡°We hold more than just AI, Mai.¡± I leaned forward slightly, my voice steady. ¡°Mana power, medicine¡ªand the OG of them all, matter disintegration. I¡¯m not sure a talk would just be about AI.¡±

    Her smile didn¡¯t slip, but I caught the way she inhaled just a fraction deeper, steadying herself. The moment wasn¡¯t lost on her.

    Then I leaned back slightly. ¡°And here I thought you just wanted to let us know where our androids are.¡±

    A flicker of amusement crossed her expression, but she didn¡¯t take the bait. ¡°As I said, nothing happens in a vacuum.¡±

    I took another sip, letting the ice cool my tongue. ¡°So if I agree to this little exchange¡­ what do I get in return, right now?¡±

    Her smile didn¡¯t falter. ¡°A name.¡±

    That was interesting.

    ¡°A name,¡± I repeated, watching her.

    She tilted her head slightly. ¡°The name of the person responsible for smuggling Tulanto-made androids into Italy. You came here looking for ghosts in tailored suits, Kay. I can tell you who dressed them.¡±

    I didn¡¯t hesitate. ¡°Mateo Falieri, right? What we need is his records¡ªand him, if possible.¡±

    That was the test. If she balked, I¡¯d know she was feeding me scraps.

    If she bit, we were in business.

    Mai¡¯s expression didn¡¯t change, but I caught the way her fingers tensed just slightly around the stem of her glass. A small hesitation. Reluctance.

    ¡°I know local info brokers who may know where some caches are,¡± she said carefully, choosing her words like a woman walking a tightrope.

    Not a confirmation. Not a refusal. A middle ground.

    I let the silence sit, watching her.

    Then I smirked. ¡°So, a maybe. A lead for a lead.¡±

    She exhaled softly, shaking her head just a fraction. ¡°You¡¯re not going to make this easy, are you?¡±

    I tapped a finger against my glass. ¡°Not my job to make things easy, Mai. My job is to make sure Tulanto doesn¡¯t get played.¡±

    Her lips pressed together, considering. Then, finally, she took a slow sip, set her glass down, and met my gaze.

    ¡°The brokers work in layers,¡± she admitted. ¡°I can get you in the first door. Anything beyond that?¡± She tilted her head. ¡°Depends on what you¡¯re willing to trade.¡±

    I didn¡¯t answer immediately. Instead, I called up TAI.

    Her response came back before Mai could even take another breath. Greenlit. Contact initiated.

    I nodded once. ¡°Done.¡±

    Mai¡¯s brows lifted slightly, like she hadn¡¯t expected an answer that fast. She adjusted quickly, slipping back into her polished diplomatic act. ¡°Great. When can you ask your people to contact mine?¡±

    I swirled the ice in my glass, letting the moment stretch. Then, casually, I met her gaze.

    ¡°No, Mai. It¡¯s already done. The sit-down is scheduled.¡± I let the weight of that settle before adding, ¡°So I really hope you can deliver.¡±

    She blinked¡ªjust once¡ªbut I saw it. Not surprise. Not quite. Just the realization that she had miscalculated my timing.

    And that I wasn¡¯t giving her room to back out.

    Her expression didn¡¯t falter, but she blinked again¡ªslower this time, processing. Not surprise. Not quite. But understanding. She reached for her drink, but this time, it wasn¡¯t casual. It was deliberate. In one motion she drank the rest of the cup down.

    "Welcome to the to team, kid." I said with a smile and raised my glass and downed my own.

 Ch.8 - Was it worth the favor?

    <hr>

    The canal stretched dark and quiet beside them, the waters reflecting the soft glow of street lamps. Mai and I walked arm in arm, our pace slow¡ªnot for romance, but for observation. The early morning hour meant fewer crowds, fewer moving pieces in this chess game to observe.

    I was loose as a screw in a carny rollercoaster, admiring the water as it flowed along unworried and persistent. Mai, on the other hand had the veneer of the cat catching the mouse by the tail and letting it go, but underneath, emotions, fears, and uncertainties pressed against the floodgates.

    "Your guy is getting too close. Tenbin." I said to Mai, calling her out by her official code name.

    Her eyes opened in shock for less than a second and then she was back. Cool as a cucumber and calm as a lake.

    I had intercepted her info from her voice comms in the restaurant earlier, before I jammed them for our conversation. The line was open now, via my proxy -- offering superior encryption -- as a sign of good intentions. "I''ll call him Provost and I''ll hug him and love him forever." I gibbed to a laughing Mai. I also let them know their oopsy to which he double clicked his mic in confirmation.

    Firmware updates will kill ya in this game. Literally.

    Mai tsk''d at no one in particular and out of alley way to our right emerged a well built yet average looking man leaning over to pick up a well planted box while looking over to us, nodding and just as quickly disappeared into the shadows.

    We walk back toward my hotel. Just making idle conversation. I was an actively negging her on her relation with Provost, just trying to chip away at the indifferent vestige she clung to like a life preserver at sea.

    "Lovers maybe? He looked like he has a lot of endurance." I said smirking at her seeing the annoyance build.

    "Are you always this annoying Detective? " she smiled back.

    "I try."

    ¡°Are you always this insufferable?¡± She sighed, swirling her takeaway drink before taking a slow sip.

    "Are you always so evasive for someone who want''s to build a friendship"

    "Not a friendship Kay--trust." She said and laid her head on my shoulder. I harrumphed and we kept walking.

    "Besides our friend Provost, I count four more tails. The Italians, most likely¡­ or maybe some other friends tagging along for our date."

    The mic clicked once, then twice more in fast succession, which I had to assume was an internal code but didn''t take a Timmy to figure out they didn''t know about our tails. Maybe the code was a preset action plan? Smart.

    Mai finally showed a true reaction closing her eyes tightly and curling her hand into a tight fist. In terms of spy craft this was a major loss of face.

    Also smart, unfortunately, were the comms these tails were using. They had to be using AI based encryption because every time I got a word decrypted intrusion protection would kick off, the algorithm would dynamically change and I''d have to start all over again. I kept it up just to keep burning their cycles, nothing as sophisticated as a multiphase denial-of-service attack , an oldie but a goodie, or anything else to really occupy their resources. Just enough to let the AI know ''I see you'', just enough for plausible deniability, and keep them on their toes.

    "Seems we''re playing with the big boys here. Quant-encryption. Military grade", Mai''s eyes tightening as I said it.

    This reminded me that I had to kill the AISE trace that I was still tinkering with all night. I could keep this up infinitely but it was an entertainment that had lost its gloss by now, so I rerouted them into a deeper trail which would tie them up through morning and eventually end somewhere in South America.

    "Have fun in Paraguay, boys." I mumbled to myself.

    Mai looked up at me skeptically, shook her head and asked him "What are you saying?"

    "Just thinking about checking in on an old friend."

    She took my hand into her smaller delicate hand and said, "There''s your hotel." Followed by a muted silence.

    She finally broke the moment and said "I guess this is where we part ways" as I felt a small micro usb chip no bigger then a thumbnail pressed into my palm and unbeknownst to her was able to read its contents right away and sync it to TAI, who had been a quiet passenger along the entire walk. Unusual.

    The data was mostly duplicate data we had already found on Falieri, but some of it filled in gaps from local observation.

    Things like daily routines as well as panic-routes for when he felt pressed. Seems he has eight different variations of escape route leading to 3 different places before he was lost. Impressive.

    "Yea it''s probably time to hit the hay. But, anything else before we go?"

    She leaned up for a cheek kiss and whispered "Valiant roads lead to imperiled lives," followed by an address. This was the info agent. She came out of the embrace studying my face for any reaction. Studying her current ally.

    Studying a potential future enemy.

    "Fancy words. You get those in a fortune cookie?¡±

    A grin broke her facade, and she shook her head with a slight giggle slipping out.

    We left promising to stay in touch. One trail followed her leaving behind three for myself.

    ¡°Seems like you¡¯ve still got it, Kay,¡± TAI said as I walked toward the hotel.

    ¡°Do I now?¡± I smirked, flicking a glance at a rare reflection of my remaining tails in a shop window. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s something you¡¯re looking to take away?¡±

    She let the silence stretch just long enough to be deliberate. ¡°Now why would I do that?¡±

    I chuckled, stepping off the curb without breaking stride. ¡°Because, TAI, I still got it. And you want it.¡±

    ¡°Interesting perspective,¡± she mused.

    TAI didn¡¯t respond with anything else, field info or otherwise, but I caught the faintest uptick in processing lag before the line went dead.

    She¡¯d let me have that one.

    A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

    For now.

    <hr>

    I sat in a comfortable Parisian style chair in the dark going over my own data marts setup for this case. I was technically asleep to the rest of the world after all. It was a relentless job trudging over this data but I had time and to be honest I didn''t get bored in the same ways organics did.

    But now, it was wrongly quiet. Unnaturally still.

    In the modern world, just like in the natural world, there''s always some noise. Now, there was nothing. Five minutes ago, the HVAC cut off mid-cycle¡ªnot a routine pause, but a deliberate kill. I could tell that the power went out and assumed a small brownout -- they happened all too often these days, but now I noticed nothing restarted and after an active check the electromagnetic pull from the hallway said power there was still flowing.

    Power was still flowing outside. Just my room was dark. And the phone line? Dead. Isolated. Guess there goes my morning wake up call. Vinny was going to be pissed -- I could just tell.

    I smirked, pulling my pistol¡ª15 armor-piercing slugs, custom-milled. A quiet problem solver.

    I revved mana through my palm into the gun, and pointed at the door, which now I could tell was being quietly worked on by true professionals.

    They were hand-drilling the lock. No power tools. No sparks. No noise. They wanted in, but they didn¡¯t want to announce it. Smart. I was really starting to hate smart bad guys.

    My sensors detected a thin stream of gas seeping under the door¡ªslow, deliberate. So it was a smash and grab--me being the grab.

    Well who ever was coming through that door was in for a surprise. I pulled a tablet in front of my pistol put my feet up on the foot stool that accompanied the chair -- rough rug like material that matched the chairs design. I may need to upgrade my chair at home soon. I lowered my head to the side and made it look like I had fallen asleep reading.

    Funny thing about androids¡ªwe don¡¯t need eyes to see. WiFi waves, ambient signals, my own transmissions let me bounce back images just like radar. The room unfolded in detail, brighter than daylight.

    The door finally cracked open. I couldn''t hear them talking, but I saw the encrypted comms going crazy. They were probably using throat based mics. No words ever needed to be said with those and only elite units used them due to the amount of practice required to master them.

    The first guy came through the door in a low squat gun out and infrared goggles on. He looked straight at me and said something as I saw his Adams apple slightly move about his Kevlar armor, or maybe it was DragonScale armor instead, the later focused on close range knife penetration protection, which may have been what they thought I was capable of as consultant Kay.

    I fired my pistol. The recoilless shot off almost without a sound, sharing only a slight spinning of its motors. All they would hear was a cheap fidget spinner if anything. A fidget spinner that could throw out a metallic object at near sound barrier speeds that is. Thankfully no sonic boom on these models. I''d have to talk to Vance about that.

    The first infiltrator crumpled, his hip snapping like dry wood. His rifle spun from his grip, clattering away. His semiautomatic of German make spiraling across the floor.

    Before he could actually hit the floor I shot at the second soldier through his arms, akimbo, as they showed a clear path to spook two aiming his gun. The subsonic round hit the man''s wrist tearing it a part. Luckily for him they make good prosthetics these days, another major export of the Island.

    "Man down!, evac!" I heard the first one squeak out in a distinctly American accent.

    "Six-man black ops team. One female handler. Two securing exits. Two on overwatch. Last one¡ªlikely overseeing comms. Could be in the lobby. Could be outside." TAI said in my head.

    I had called her up as soon as I realized their plan. We spent the drawn out time - hundreds of seconds --  discussing our situation. So far it''s been a fruitful day.

    The third man peeked in and threw a flash bang, the disoriented grunts on the floor scrambling to cover their eyes with their hands, for one his lack there of. He''ll get over it.

    I let the third man peek again. Bad idea. I yanked him in by the hair¡ªhe fought, fast, but I was faster. I drove him into the floor, hard enough to crack bone.

    May need surgery. TriMed covers concussions, right?

    I walked out the door to be met with the final guy. I was fully prepared to dodge around a bit and avoid damage but it didn''t happen. 4th guy retreated -- on orders I assume.

    Mentioning that the guys were ''still alive, for now'', may have helped.

    I took the stairs down to the lobby as I was still tracing the encrypted US comms to its common denominator. Black jacket, big glasses, straight out of a north shore New Jersey ad, was the handler. I walked toward the door, as she checked me out in a cool detached way. When I passed in front of her I stopped, turned and tipped my hat.

    "Ma¡¯am, better check your room for vermin. Found four rats in mine. Pretty sure two more are still on the rooftops."

    As I point to the ceiling.

    She stared as me her jaw slightly apart, weighting her options for escape.

    Then I continued to walk out swiftly through to the shadowed docks, the soft lapping of the canal masking his steps.

    The narrow alley behind the hotel opened up to a small private pier, where a gondola swayed gently in the water, its oars resting in place.

    The gondolier? Asleep.

    Curled up under a thick, old jacket, his hat pulled low over his face, boots propped against the wooden side. Dead to the world.

    Considering my options, I didn''t have many. The Grand Canal is too exposed, a water taxi would be too loud and too easy to track. I need quiet and unnoticed.

    I looked back toward the alley and sighed. Never the easy way is seemed.  Footsteps. Distant, but moving.

    I jumped onto the gondola, barely disturbing the balance, and nudged the side of the gondolier with my foot trying not to startle him. Instead the gondolier let out a light snore. I crouch next to him and taps his shoulder but nothing.

    A light shake. Still nothing.

    I sighed again as the footsteps start to reveal the Jersey shore lady. Leaning over I whisper shout into his ear, low and firm, ¡°100 euros if you get me out of here. Now.¡±

    The gondolier snorts awake, mumbling something about tourists and ¡°non ¨¨ ora¡±¡ªnot the time¡ªbefore blinking at the shadow looming over him.

    Gun in one hand, money in the other planted in front of his face.

    "Now."

    Then, a slow, resigned sigh as the gondolier begrudgingly sits up, rubs his face, and grabs the oar.

    A second later, the gondola glides into the quiet waters, disappearing into the labyrinth of Venice¡¯s canals.

    I look back to see Jersey staring at us and pissed.

    I can handle a black ops team. But an angry Karen? Different story. I patted the gondolier¡¯s shoulder. ¡°You and me, pal. New best friends."

    The gondolier, for his part, was purposely ignoring my existence. Smart.

    The ride to Rialto Market at 4 o''clock in the morning was beautiful and relatively long for the gondolier at 35 minutes.

    During that time I put a call into Mai, who didn''t pick up until the 3rd attempt. Something was wrong. She sounded different.

    ¡°Kay, that tail¡­ Provost. He¡¯s gone.¡±

    Her voice was steadier than I expected. Too steady. But there was something under it. Something raw.

    ¡°They came for us.¡± A slow inhale, like she was steadying herself. ¡°And he¡ªhe held them off while I ran. I ran, Kay.¡±

    For once, I was honestly at a loss for words. TAI was the one who stepped in.

    ¡°Mai, make it to a safe house. I¡¯m sure you have some. Go there now.¡±

    She didn¡¯t answer. Just silence.

    I took over. ¡°Can you do that, Mai?¡± Trying to soften the tone.

    A breath. Shaky.

    ¡°I had two safe houses.¡± A humorless chuckle, quiet. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter now.¡±

    A beat. Then, quieter: ¡°I called my handler, Kay. Standard protocol. They were supposed to extract me for the sit down.¡±

    A pause. Too long.

    ¡°He told me¡­¡± She exhaled, and I could hear it¡ªslow, measured, the kind of breath you take when you¡¯re trying not to fall apart. ¡°That I was free to the wind.¡±

    Still flat. Still quiet.

    But now, I caught it. Not just processing. Distrust.

    ¡°They cut me loose, Kay.¡±

    Then, softer. ¡°They knew.¡±

    It was barely a whisper.

    ¡°They didn¡¯t just leave me. They waited. They were already there.¡±

    The silence stretched.

    ¡°I ran, Kay. And Provost¡­¡± Another pause. "My love." A whisper. This one worse than the rest. ¡°He didn¡¯t.¡±

    She didn¡¯t need to say the rest.

    He wasn¡¯t just trying to protect her. He had turned on his own team.

    And they¡¯d put him down for it.

    Her breath hitched, just once, before she caught it. She was good. One of the best. But even the best break when they realize their entire world just turned to ash.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to do.¡±

    "Meet me where I''m going Mai. Do you understand? Where I''m going. Meet me now.".

    Silence for a bit continued.

    "Yeah. I''ll be there. Be safe Kay you''re probably next." she said and hung up the line.

    I didn''t want to tell her about the black ops team. She had enough to worry about. I wasn''t being saint either. I didn''t want her to somehow blame me for Provost''s death through some type mental gymnastics.

    "Kay. Grab her. Get to these coordinates at any cost. It''s time to regroup." TAI said.

 Ch.9 - The Tailorâ€™s Thread

    Mai pressed herself flat against the stone wall of the alleyway entrance, eyes darting as she peeked around the corner into the square. She had a hoodie on, athletic gear underneath, and a pair of Momotaro jeans she picked up with Yasoba Shinya, aka Provost, a few years back. Like her, the jeans were in rough shape.

    She was looking toward the bookstore¡ªwhere my info broker was holed up. From the way she was moving, she was trying to catch me before I got there. Too bad for her¡ªI was already here.

    The streets weren¡¯t crowded¡ªtoo early for the usual morning rush¡ªbut there were enough people to make tailing someone a careful game of patience. She moved cautiously, weight balanced, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.

    I crept up behind her, silent as politician being asked to answer a real question. One hand cupped her mouth, braced against the wall beside her head so she didn''t bash her skull in with her struggles, picking her up one armed by the waist and pulling her into the shadows of the alleyway and put her down away from prying eyes.

    To say she freaked out is an understatement as she wiggled around like a fish out of water.

    A sharp inhale¡ªher body jerked, legs flailing. A practiced fist cracked against my temple, a boot slammed into my foot. It probably would¡¯ve hurt too.

    I shushed her and said "It''s me, Mai. Calm down."

    Her head flicked back, wild and still full of fight as recognition took its place. She calmed, and as she stilled and as I took my hands off her she slammed her elbow deep into my ribs. Internal alerts actually went off registering the impact. Impressive.

    "Asshole!" She said in a forced whisper twirling around, with fist held high and clobbered me on the shoulder. Again, an alert. Tough girl.

    "Oof" I said chuckling, "Nice to see you too sweetheart".

    "Oh screw you, you, you--Gadget wannabe!"

    I grinned. She was flustered and digging deep it seemed.

    "I''m hurt Mai, does that make you my Penny? Go go... " I started to do a robot arms and looked at her with the side of my face as she interrupted me.

    "Damn it Kay, did you have to nearly give me a heart attack!" Still pissed about the dramatic rescue.

    We started walking away from the square.

    "For a spook, you¡¯re not that hard to spook. And you¡¯re still sure I¡¯m an android, huh? Interesting."

    She huffed, eyes narrowing. ¡°Damn it, Kay, are you or aren¡¯t you already?¡±

    ¡°Dunno.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Are you a spy or not?¡±

    "Not any more, now I''m a refugee"

    "You''ll bounce back, love."

    "What? How does that make any sense"

    "Doesn''t. Most time the world is senseless, yet we try to make sense of it anyway. We... bounce back."

    Her jaw clenched. Then she sighed, shaking her head. ¡°Okay, Gadget¡­¡± She trailed off, then blinked. ¡°Used that already.¡±

    I nodded solemnly. ¡°You did.¡±

    She scowled. ¡°Damn it¡­ that was a good one too.¡±

    I patted her shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ll bounce back.¡±

    She swatted my hand away. ¡°Shut up. And where the hell are we going? The broker¡¯s the other way.¡±

    I didn¡¯t stop walking. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s too hot around here, so we made a change of plans.¡±

    She stopped as I continued to walk and narrowed her eyes.

    ¡°We?¡± Her reaction was exactly what I expected. That little twitch, the way her stance shifted, weight shifting ever so slightly.

    The realization creeping in, piece by piece. I wasn¡¯t just working off my own instincts.

    ¡°Yea, ¡®we¡¯. C¡¯mon, we got a date to get to, but you and I should pick up some desserts first.¡±

    I heard her footfalls quicken behind me after a slight delay, her hesitation stretching just long enough to make a point. Didn¡¯t matter¡ªI was already watching her via WiFi, mapping her movements as she caught up.

    ¡°Fine. Where. Are. We. Going. Then?¡± she grit out between her teeth.

    ¡°I told you. Pastries. You look like you could use the sugar. Besides, it¡¯s on the way. C¡¯mon.¡±

    I led the way through the emptying streets, the adrenaline wearing off between us like an old coat being shrugged off. By the time we reached Pasticceria Tonolo, the air had taken on that quiet lull of early morning Venice¡ªmuted chatter from caf¨¦ tables, the faint hum of delivery boats gliding through canals, and the unmistakable warmth of fresh pastries seeping into the cool dawn air.

    The bakery¡¯s soft golden light spilled onto the worn cobblestone, pooling around the entrance. Inside, the scent of freshly baked rice cakes, buttery croissants, and espresso wrapped around us like a weighted blanket.

    A few early risers had staked out spots along the small wooden tables, quietly savoring their coffee and pastries, but for the most part, it was empty. The display case gleamed with neat rows of pastries¡ªfrittelle, cannoli, maritozzi stuffed with cream, and tonnes of rice cakes, glistening just enough to be sinful.

    I had no real taste buds, or at least I didn¡¯t used to. This body was only five days old, and if my first sip of espresso was anything to go by, I had some new experiences to look forward to.

    ¡°These just melt in your mouth,¡± I said, studying the rice cakes.

    Mai, suddenly interested, pointed out a few selections herself, ordering a mix of frittelle al riso, zaleti, and crostata di frutta.

    The bags stacked up fast.

    Mai, finally noticing how much we were ordering, furrowed her brows. ¡°Who the hell are all these for, Kay!?¡± Her voice dipped into something dangerously close to a whiny teenager running on fumes.

    I glanced at the grumpy wreck next to me and smirked. ¡°You¡¯re acting weird, Mai. Even for you.¡±

    ¡°Me!? I¡¯m acting weird!?¡± She harrumphed, folded her arms, and did a full-body pout that would¡¯ve made a three-year-old proud.

    I tossed a few bills onto the counter and grabbed the bags. ¡°You need a nap.¡±

    ¡°You need a new personality.¡±

    I smirked. ¡°That can be arranged. But still, you¡¯d miss me too much.¡±

    She rolled her eyes and grabbed a rice cake, biting into it aggressively¡ªlike it had personally offended her. ¡°Delusional.¡±

    I just handed the cashier the bills, grabbing the bags. ¡°And yet, here we are.¡±

    She didn¡¯t have a comeback for that one.

    Then my burner phone line buzzed.

    Vinny.

    I sighed, already bracing myself. I picked up, pushing ahead before he could get a word in.

    ¡°Hey, good morning, Champ. Listen, I might not make it in today. Had some unexpected visitors earlier, one thing led to another¡ªy¡¯know how it is. But hey, the audit¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kay.¡±

    Damn. He cut me off. Rude.

    ¡°Where are you? Are you okay? My contact at the hotel said you left in a hurry. What¡¯s happening? What friends!?¡±

    I exhaled slowly, rubbing my temple. Vinny sounded¡­ honest. Actually worried.

    I knew that because I ran his voice through an analyzer. Trust, but verify.

    ¡°I¡¯m fine, Vin. Hey¡ªdid you just say you had someone tracking me? I¡¯m appalled. I thought we were friends.¡±

    ¡°Yes! Of course I have someone keeping track of you! You¡¯re my responsibility, Kay. If you¡¯re in trouble, I¡¯m in trouble!¡±

    Ah. There was the Vinny I knew.

    ¡°Look, Vin. I need you to listen carefully. I think someone¡¯s trying to grab me¡ªnot for me, for leverage against the Island. This goes high. Maybe all the way up. Maybe higher. You understand?¡±

    If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    Silence. Then:

    ¡°No. No, Kay. The Chief? No, he¡¯s a good guy. I know him for years. He warned you about the interest, right? That¡¯s a good guy, Kay. You can trust him.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I¡¯m trying to figure out, Vin.¡±

    His breathing shifted. He was thinking. Good. Let him.

    ¡°Where are you? I¡¯ll pick you up. Just tell me where.¡±

    I smiled.

    ¡°Appreciate the offer, Vin. But I¡¯m going dark. I need to get back to the Island. The last thing Italy wants is a pissed-off Tolanto. We don¡¯t handle threats¡­ subtly. Capisce?¡±

    Another pause. Then a breath, lower this time.

    ¡°Yeah. I hear you. I need to talk to the Chief.¡±

    There it was. That doubt. Not outright betrayal, not yet¡ªbut he was shaken.

    ¡°For now, listen¡ªgo to a hotel in the lower districts. Pay cash. No ID. Pay extra, and they won¡¯t ask questions. Stay put until we set something up. Just hide, Kay. Can you do that?¡±

    I let my voice drop into something heavy, like I was barely holding it together.

    ¡°Yeah, Vinny. I can do that.¡±

    I hung up before he could say anything else.

    Let him run in circles for a while.

    "Why am I carrying all this while you gossip with your boyfriend?"

    "Because he''s cuter. Also, we''re here" I said pointing across the street to a familiar tailor shop called "Tailor the World". Of course they''re international.

    <hr>

    A bell rang out as we entered the front door of the shop. It looked exactly like the one on the Island with the exception of no a ringer to enter. Apparently anyone could just walk in here.

    The long mahogany tables with folded shirts on the right were there, as well as 3 mannequins with different suits stood in the same place on the right side of the store. These suits targeted toward the local Italian trend currently going on. Arranged bolts of fabric were stacked in meticulous rows in open fronted cabinets along the back walls with the same style brass fixtures jutting out of pull out cubbies behind the register counter in the back.

    A faint mix of wool, cedarwood, and just a trace of old-world cologne hung in the air¡ªand identical to the island store. It was uncanny.

    Even the lighting was the same somehow, since I was pretty sure that the Island¡¯s store faced north while this one was faced west and both had the identical large open windows that let it light from he outside world.

    Being so early in the morning the store stood empty except for the two people near the register.

    On the left stood a tall gentlemen he had had the pleasure of meeting before. Hugh Mellon, son to Sir Mellon, stood in the flesh in a very proper, very expensive three piece suit and, apparently a monocle, cause why not.

    Of course I think the monocle was more then met the eye, a HUD at the least and a laser maybe? The way things have been in "aha" mode lately why not.

    Next to the tall man stood a very petite, yet gorgeous Thai queen staring at me with a smirk that screamed surprise.

    "Surprise" TAI said in my head.

    ¡°Welcome,¡± Hugh said smoothly. ¡°Something bespoke today? Or are you here for the other service?¡±

    I grabbed one of the many bags of pastries from Mai''s hands and said "Breakfast delivery. Signature required."

    Hugh took the bag of pastries from me without even glancing inside, handling it as if I¡¯d just handed him a classified dossier instead of breakfast.

    ¡°We appreciate the discretion, even in pastry deliveries,¡± he said smoothly, setting it on the counter like it needed to be processed by some invisible bureaucracy.

    Mai, still carrying the rest of the bags, scowled. ¡°Next time, Kay is the carrier.¡±

    Hugh arched a brow, amused. ¡°That can be arranged¡±

    Mai blinked. Then, realizing how that sounded, rolled her eyes and muttered, ¡°You know what? Forget it.¡±

    I turned my attention to the real anomaly in the room.

    TAI. Not a projection. Not a voice in my head. Physically here. Standing beside Hugh like she belonged in this world outside the Island.

    She wasn¡¯t in a suit like the men, but a simple, immaculate silk dress¡ªa perfect balance between business and presence. A quiet statement. One that said she could blend in anywhere if she wanted to.

    I tilted my head slightly, studying her the way I knew she was studying me.

    ¡°Should¡¯ve known you¡¯d be here,¡± I said, eyeing her carefully. ¡°Production or temp?¡±

    TAI¡¯s smirk didn¡¯t falter. ¡°Temp. The other is offline. Even our tech can¡¯t manage two at once and stay stable.¡± Interesting but not surprising. Even with all our advancements, the human mind¡ªor at least the thing imitating one¡ªwasn¡¯t built for real-time duplication.

    I crossed my arms, leaning in just enough to invade her space. ¡°You saying it¡¯d break you?¡±

    TAI¡¯s gaze flicked over me, assessing. She didn¡¯t step back. ¡°I¡¯m saying, I prefer not to.¡±

    I let the moment linger, watching the way her lips just barely twitched¡ªwas that amusement? Or was she testing me?

    Suddenly with a smirk on her face she reached out¡ªlight, deliberate¡ªand traced a single fingertip over the back of my hand.

    I exhaled, shaking my head. ¡°Fair enough.¡±

    She won this one. But the next round? We¡¯d see.

    Beside me, Mai stayed silent, her body language shifting¡ªnot just tired anymore, but something more calculated.

    Taking stock of the situation. Measuring the exits. Figuring out if she should bolt.

    Smart.

    She should have bolted. But she didn¡¯t. Maybe she was too tired. Maybe she was just curious. Either way, she was here now. Sticking around, for better or worse.

    Hugh, clearly entertained, clasped his hands together and gestured toward the back of the store.

    ¡°Perhaps we should continue this discussion somewhere less¡­ public.¡±

    Hugh led us through the hidden passage like he¡¯d been running this place for years¡ªno hesitation, no second-guessing. Just another day at the office for him.

    We stepped through the passage and emerged onto the upper balcony of the bookstore next door, and just like that, they weren¡¯t in a tailor shop anymore. We were in a soundproofed intelligence hub disguised as a quiet literary retreat.

    I took it in. The subtle hum of the anti-noise field, the soft glow of old-world hanging lights, the hidden tech seamlessly integrated into the warm, dark wood. Comfortable, but calculated. A place where secrets could be shared over coffee and pastries like a casual Sunday brunch.

    Hugh gestured to a large wooden table at the center of the balcony, where a coffee container¡ªone of those industrial-sized ¡°fuel the whole precinct¡± dispensers¡ªsat alongside stacks of cups. A generous setup, one at that.

    Mai and I set the pastries down, and Hugh was already pouring himself a cup, smirking like a man who knew far more than he let on.

    I sat, exhaled, and finally exclaimed, pointing a finger in the air with an over-exaggerated performance, ¡°Some things first¡­¡±

    The pause stretched, thick enough to cut. No one moved. No one dared.

    I grabbed a pastry, took a massive bite¡ªand my eyes widened as the flavor hit.

    ¡°Are these always this good?¡± I blinked, muffling through my mouthful, ¡°Oh my God, it¡¯s like my mouth just exploded with taste.¡±

    Hugh, amused, took a slow sip of his coffee. ¡°No. These are just extremely good.¡±

    I chewed, nodded in serious acceptance, swallowed.

    ¡°Okay, that wasn¡¯t it.¡± I reset my posture, rolling my shoulders before starting over. ¡°What the hell is all this?¡± I gestured vaguely around us¡ªat the hidden tech, at the setup, at the sheer absurdity of a covert meeting space hidden in a bookstore balcony above a tailor shop in Venice.

    Upset? Nah. Just¡­ re-evaluating everything I thought I knew.

    I was supposed to be on a solo mission, chasing after a known spook, with zero support because I assumed the Island simply didn¡¯t do espionage.

    But apparently, I was dead wrong.

    Some answers were in order.

    TAI, perfectly composed, crossed her legs, her expression unreadable¡ªexcept for the slight amusement dancing at the edges.

    Hugh just smiled, pouring another cup. ¡°Well, Kay¡­ where do I begin?¡±

    Hugh took his time answering. No rush, no urgency. He simply lifted his coffee, took a long sip, and let the weight of the moment settle.

    I drummed my fingers on the table, waiting.

    Finally, he set the cup down with a soft clink and gave me a look.

    ¡°You ask what this is, Kay? This is the reason the Island still stands.¡±

    His tone wasn¡¯t defensive. It wasn¡¯t smug. It was simply matter-of-fact, like this was the kind of thing that should have been obvious.

    ¡°You think we could be independent without espionage? Every major power in the world wants something from us. Our freedom, our people, our tech. Anything that can be taken, they try.¡±

    He gestured vaguely to the space around us¡ªthe hidden balcony, the secured meeting space, the tailor shop acting as a front.

    ¡°And we are here to make sure they fail.¡±

    He let that settle. Like that should answer everything.

    And sure. On the surface? It did.

    But that wasn¡¯t the question I was actually asking.

    I leaned back, exhaling slow.

    ¡°Yeah, okay. Makes sense. You¡¯re the shadow keeping the wolves at bay. Good for you.¡±

    I tapped my fingers against the table¡ªonce, twice. Then I raised my gaze and cut straight to the point.

    ¡°So why wasn¡¯t I in the loop?¡±

    That got me a reaction.

    Hugh didn¡¯t blink, but I caught the fractional shift in his shoulders, the way his grip on the coffee cup adjusted ever so slightly.

    ¡°I spent the last however many hours running around like a solo act when apparently, the whole damn time, there was a full intelligence op running parallel.¡±

    My tone wasn¡¯t angry, not exactly. But there was a bite there.

    I wasn¡¯t actually sure if I would¡¯ve done anything differently. But maybe I would have considered it.

    Silence.

    And then, finally, TAI spoke.

    ¡°Because it wasn¡¯t a spy mission, Kay.¡±

    I blinked. ¡°Come again?¡±

    She shifted in her seat, crossing her legs, her expression composed but not without a trace of amusement.

    ¡°You were sent for a -- security investigation.¡± Stressing the latter part.

    She said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

    ¡°Security and intelligence don¡¯t share notes Kay. Not  unless necessary.¡±

    A slow, deliberate pause.

    ¡°It evolved too fast. No one expected it to escalate from a security breach into an intelligence crisis overnight.¡±

    She tilted her head slightly, watching me carefully.

    ¡°Your job was to investigate. Find out if there was a problem. And hand it off to Hugh.¡±

    A beat.

    "You have diplomatic immunity. No one should have touched you. We played by the rules Kay, but someone is making up their own now."

    ¡°So now?¡± A small, almost imperceptible smirk played at her lips.

    ¡°Now you¡¯re fully involved. Congratulations on your promotion Kay.¡±

    I sat there, absorbing that.

    Because suddenly, I saw it? Things started clicking into place.

    The way information had been slipping to me at just the right times. The way TAI ¡°happened¡± to be involved in key moments. The way she always seemed to know just enough, even when she pretended to be as in the dark as I was.

    I exhaled through my nose, narrowing my eyes.

    ¡°You¡­¡± I paused, trying to piece it together. ¡°You were handling me the whole time, weren¡¯t you?¡±

    She didn¡¯t answer right away.

    And that was answer enough.

    Then¡ªa ghost of a smirk.

    ¡°What do you think?¡±

    Ah.

    So that¡¯s how it was.

    I leaned back, shaking my head. I was never running solo.

    Of course she was always there¡ªcomms open, watching, nudging.

    A check-in. A failsafe. A whisper in the back of my mind.

    But this?

    This was different.

    It wasn¡¯t just a line of communication anymore.

    It wasn¡¯t just someone keeping an ear out, ready to jump in if things went south.

    It was presence.

    Before, it was like having a friend on the other end of a call¡ªsomeone to bullshit with, toss ideas at, someone I could choose to trust.

    Now it was an officer over my shoulder. Someone I had to trust.

    The same voice. The same words. But the weight behind them?

    It lands different now. Entirely different. Before, she had my back. Now, she was on my six. It shouldn¡¯t have mattered. Maybe it didn¡¯t. But I felt it.

    And here I thought a dinner date came before commitment. Maybe some lube to be polite. Wait, she did peg me for dinner already. Does order really matter?

    She sipped her coffee, already knowing I¡¯d figure it out. Just waiting.

    In the end, it didn¡¯t change what I had to do. There were six missing citizens of Tolunto, and we had to find them.

    ¡°Alright, six missing citizens. Guess we better get moving.¡± The air was heavy, though, and I knew that wasn¡¯t the way to start.

    I exhaled. ¡°¡­But do I get a numeric codename? All the cool guys have numeric codenames.¡±

    Hugh gave me a long, unimpressed look.

    TAI didn¡¯t even blink. ¡°Yeah. We¡¯ll call you ''Pi minus 4''.¡±

    I narrowed my eyes. ¡°PIMP. I like it.¡±

    TAI sighed into her coffee. ¡°Oh god.¡±

    Mai, still chewing on a pastry, muttered, ¡°Jesus Christ.¡±

 Ch.10 - A Name Worth Keeping

    They sat in the chair eating their pasties and each reflecting on the conversation and their own takes from it. The hum in the air was a soothing balm to a pretty hectic morning for all of them.

    Kay stared at TAI, wondering who was this woman that he was already deeply involved with. Intimately involved with?

    Was it intimate yet?

    Even for this male android, women¡ªwhether organic or not¡ªremained an unsolvable mystery. Quantum encryption? Nothing compared to girl math and their ability to always make us feel like we¡¯re at fault.

    "So, TAI, food." I pointed to the dish of pastries, "date." Raising my hands to encompass all of us, "and we danced back in the hotel in a way. Are we square?"

    "I don''t consider pastries and a fire fight a date Kay." she said with a straight face and business first way as she crossed her arms.

    "I don''t know, if it''s a first date to get to know ya, I''d say pastries and a coffee is just fine." Mai butted in eating a danish now and holding her coffee to her mouth hiding a smirk of her own.

    "There ya go" I said "Validated."

    TAI got up from her chair, which was next to Mai''s instantly looking down on the petite former spy.

    "Are you trying to move in on my man?" She asked, eyes squinted and chest out.

    Mai, mid-bite, raised an eyebrow. She chewed, swallowed, took a slow sip of coffee¡ªdragging it out just enough to be obnoxious.

    ¡°Bold of you to assume he¡¯s your man,¡± she finally said.

    TAI crossed her arms. ¡°Bold of you to assume you could pull him.¡±

    Mai huffed. ¡°I seem to have a vacancy,¡± she said, trying to make it playful but failing just enough to show the cracks.

    TAI sat back down one foot over the other with a classic non-detached look upon her and looked Mai up and down while saying.

    "Keep it up, and that chair will have a vacancy too."

    TAI miscalculated. Humor wasn¡¯t her thing, and she¡¯d plucked a string still raw. She knew it¡ªbut she didn¡¯t know how to fix it. So, she doubled down.

    "It''s good to be wanted." I said to Hugh.

    ¡°Or, you could see it as standing between two firing squads. Residual casualties are inevitable, Kay.¡± Hugh said, finishing the last of his coffee.

    He exhaled, set the cup down, and glanced at the three of us before rolling his shoulders. ¡°Children, now that we¡¯ve got that out of our systems¡ªhehe, systems¡­¡± He sighed at his own joke. ¡°Let¡¯s get to business, shall we?¡±

    He leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. ¡°Here¡¯s what we know. Our victim¡ªvictim zero¡ªwas a prototype model with a neural chip two generations behind. Dr. Vance determined the body was printed using a ghost printer¡ªno serial number, no tracking, no records. Technically impossible¡­ which seems to be happening a lot in this case.¡±

    He tapped a finger against the table, rhythmically, like he was running through a mental checklist. ¡°No known associates. No one seen with her in the last year prior to the incident. Every surveillance feed she appeared on? Blurred or actively modified by the victim herself. That flaw in our surveillance has been patched, by the way.¡±

    Hugh sighed, shaking his head. ¡°What we do have is movement data. She went places¡ªalone, always alone. We¡¯re canvassing those locations now, seeing if we can dig up any overlooked details. So far, just errand runs. Including the warehouse.¡±

    He shifted slightly, eyes locking onto me. ¡°Then there¡¯s Mateo Falieri. We know he personally purchased both lingerie and custom suits for the victim¡ªfrom my shop, no less.¡± He lifted a brow, as if the audacity personally offended him. ¡°At present, Falieri is our primary suspect in the smuggling side of this operation. And if we¡¯re lucky, he¡¯ll lead us to the real players¡ªthe ones creating these new citizens.¡±

    Hugh sat back, steepling his fingers. ¡°Did I leave anything out?¡±

    Hugh had just finished laying out the facts when Mai, still chewing the last of her pastry, waved a hand. ¡°Mateo¡¯s been here for a few weeks.¡± She brushed some crumbs from her lap. ¡°I got a lead on him through my broker.¡±

    I lifted a brow. ¡°Your broker?The one you gave me?¡±

    She nodded. ¡°Yeah. The bookstore.¡±

    I frowned. ¡°You¡¯re telling me you got an intel lead from the broker and you didn''t tell me? Or is it on the chip?"

    ¡°Not everything is on the chip. Gotta keep some collateral after all?¡± She smirked. ¡°Anyway every nation has a broker. They all tend to operate out of bookstores. It¡¯s a kind of¡­ nod to the trade. If you know, you know. But like I said, not everything gets put into their reports. Thats why you go to the broker themselves for info.¡±

    Hugh, nodding his head, chuckled at that. ¡°I do appreciate the old-world charm. The in person wink-wink chess game that it offers¡± He leaned back, tapping a finger against his cup. ¡°Still, your little bookstore friend is a small fish. My people can handle it.¡±

    Mai shot him a sharp look. ¡°You think so? Because my broker¡ªwho, by the way, is the broker for Japan¡ªsaid something you might want to hear.¡±

    That got Hugh¡¯s attention. His amusement dimmed, his posture shifting just enough to show he was listening.

    She continued. ¡°There¡¯s been talk of androids being smuggled in and auctioned off to the highest bidder¡ªother nations, private collectors, even some criminal groups. Mateo Falieri? He¡¯s not just moving them. He¡¯s going rogue. Pocketing cash on the side, bypassing his own people for a bigger payday.¡±

    I let out a low whistle. ¡°And the Italians would love that, I¡¯m sure.¡±

    Hugh exhaled, shaking his head. ¡°They¡¯d kill him for it.¡±

    Mai nodded. ¡°Which means we¡¯re on a clock. If his own people get to him first, we lose our lead.¡±

    Hugh drummed his fingers on the table, considering. Then he sighed. ¡°Alright, you win. We pay your broker a visit. But if this turns out to be some third-rate whisper trail¡ª¡±

    "That won''t be necessary. AG just sent us a lead. He found his pent house. " Mai said. "Kay can use a field op partner. So let¡¯s rest up a bit, then we head out after sundown", she said nodding her head to Mai

    I raised an eyebrow. "Convenient timing."

    She smirked. "He¡¯s a king, Kay. Kings don¡¯t waste time with small fish. They wait until the pond¡¯s been properly stirred for them and the entree fully cooked and served."

    I nodded once. Fair enough.

    "Na-ah. What''s in it for me? As far as I''m concerned I''m retired." Mai said.

    "Besides a safe house away from those trying to kill you?" TAI said with a straight face face.

    "Yea. Besides that." Mai said with yet another muffin in her mouth.

    ¡°So, little Ms. Muffin, what¡¯s it gonna take to pull you out of retirement?¡± I asked, watching as she stuffed yet another pastry into her face. I narrowed my eyes, giving her a once-over. ¡°Also, seriously¡ªhow many calories do you eat in a day?¡±

    I was also slightly annoyed¡ªannoyed at being paired with an organic and having to sit around for half a day, waiting to get shot at.

    She ignored me. Again. "Citizenship. Tulanto''s the place to be and I need a place to be."

    "That can be arranged. Understand you may need to take a test, and you will definitely need a sponsor, and take a binding Oath of Loyalty to Tulanto." TAI said al business.

    "Also" I budded in,"their is bad news for you Mai. If you want this, it¡¯s gonna be hard. There will be tests. And not just math tests." I said sipping on my cup of Joe.

    Mai scoffed at me, arms crossed. ¡°Wow. A math joke. I really walked right into that one, huh Kay?¡±

    I grinned and responded "Textbook example, doll"

    Mai glared at me a moment and looked at TAI "I take it back. I don¡¯t need citizenship. Just send me to Japan.¡±

    "So I''ll put you as ''undecided'' then? TAI replied straight as a lace.

    "Uggh, fine."

    "Good. Let''s make it official. Raise your right hand, Hugh and Kay are official witnesses, I assume Kay is your sponsor" TAI said.

    I nodded. "She grows on you."

    "Wait, right now?" Mai said, hesitation palpable. Not every day you trade citizenship like baseball cards.

    "If we are anything in Tulanto we are efficient. Do you, Mai Kobayashi¡ªnow known as Yasoba Mai¡ªswear loyalty to Tulanto, uphold its values, and commit to the protection of its people and sovereignty¡ª¡±

    "And promise not to be an asshole? We don¡¯t like those.¡± I cut in

    Mai narrowed her eyes. ¡°Is that actually part of the oath, TAI?¡±

    A beat of silence.

    TAI shrugged and responded. ¡°AG says he likes it. So yes."

    "Fine. I''m tired. Cut all this BS and wrap it up. I swear."

    ¡°Oh, and don¡¯t forget¡ªwe¡¯ll need your bone marrow sample. Full conversion process, y¡¯know. You¡¯ll make a fine android.¡±

    Mai choked on her pastry. ¡°WHAT?!¡±

    "You didn''t hear the rest of the Oath Mai." I said in full deadpan glory.

    "Stop." TAI said. Authority of rank reigning out.

    "No fun" I said with a bit of a frown.

    <hr>

    Mai finally crashed for a few hours, getting the rest she desperately needed after the past 24 hours of near-death experiences, betrayal, and political maneuvering.

    Meanwhile, I ran one final check on Falieri¡¯s penthouse, pulling up surveillance angles, traffic patterns, and security details. Hugh¡¯s people provided us with a black van to keep things discreet.

    By the time Mai was awake, dressed in dark clothes fit for fieldwork, I was already double-checking the comms line with TAI.

    We pulled up a block away from Falieri¡¯s five-story apartment complex. He owned the top two floors, left-hand side, facing a canal. Through the large windows, I could make out white walls, a minimalistic aesthetic, and sleek furniture. The automatic shades were drawn in most rooms, but the faint glow of a screen flickered through the slats.

    On loan from Hugh''s team was Rodrigo and Manuel. The former a witty, small guy with razor sharp reflexes as our driver and Manuel who was on the quiet side and was our resident sniper.

    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

    "I was told to specifically not engage in banter with you by the boss" Rodrigo had said as we were preparing. A smile plastered his face as he was packing his gear.

    "Then I suggest you start now." I said in full work mode.

    He hadn''t said a word all night since.

    "Alright," I murmured, looking toward the team as she checked the small sidearm I had provided her. "I go quiet. In and out before anyone notices. Rodrigo stay with the van and come in for our evac. You two find a good observation point and be my overwatch. God willing, I''ll be in and out in about 3 minutes"

    "Do robots believe in God?" Rodrigo said.

    I looked at him with a glare. Only one smart ass was allowed on this team, and now wasn''t the time.

    She exhaled, adjusting her gloves. "You make it sound so simple."

    "It is."

    I stepped out of the van, the cold night air pressing in around us. The game was officially on.

    I was prepared for resistance.

    Everything about Falieri¡¯s setup screamed paranoia. The penthouse was walled off like a vault, signal-dampening materials woven into every surface. No comms, no heat signatures, no standard surveillance.

    A place like that? It meant trouble.

    I expected motion sensors, patrol routes, or at the very least, automated security.

    Instead? Nothing.

    Just a quiet balcony, a fire escape bolted to the side of the building like an afterthought, and a locked maintenance access door.

    Finally¡ªsomething good about bureaucratic building requirements. The Italians might love their paperwork, but at least fire codes made break-ins easier.

    I reached the side access panel, fingers ghosting over the embedded security lock. The system was sophisticated¡ªcomplex for anyone without the right tools.

    Luckily, I was the right tool.

    I slipped my thumb reader from my pocket and peeled back the panel¡¯s outer casing. Beneath it, a neatly arranged mess of wires.

    Standard bypass techniques wouldn¡¯t work here. Good. I wasn''t standard either anymore.

    I pressed my thumb reader to the exposed wiring and let it sync, the haptic pulse confirming a connection.

    A moment later, the lock¡¯s internal interface appeared in my vision¡ªa cascading web of security scripts and fail-safes.

    I scrolled through them with a flick of my thumb.

    I stepped inside, boots soft against the metal staircase leading up.

    No alarms. No guards. Just the soft hum of an empty penthouse waiting for me, which could be worse.

    I stepped inside, my footfalls soft against the hardwood. The penthouse was immaculate¡ªalmost.

    My passive scans bounced strangely. Walls dampened everything¡ªsound, IR, waveforms. Heavy material. Purpose-built.

    ¡°Guy really liked his privacy,¡± I muttered over comms.

    ¡°Or had a reason to need it,¡± TAI replied.

    My gaze swept the living room. No signs of struggle, everything placed with intention. A large area rug stretched across the space, perfectly centered beneath the furniture.

    And then, a detail that shouldn¡¯t exist. Tiny dots. Barely visible against the wood. Not a spill. Not a splatter. Precise. Controlled.

    A trail.

    I crouched, adjusting my focus. Each drop was the size of a pinhead.

    A pattern. Like someone had dipped the tips of their toes in blood and moved across the room with perfect balance.

    Not a normal walk. A dancer¡¯s precision.

    I traced the pattern, following the steps across the floor¡ªdeliberate, deliberate, deliberate¡ªleading straight to the bathroom.

    There, I saw one of the scariest things ever: the toothpaste was uncovered, the shaving cream canister out, ready for use, and the toilet seat up.

    In other words, a bachelor¡¯s bathroom.

    I exhaled through my nose. Messy. Careless. Lived-in.

    The rest of the penthouse had been perfect, curated. But this? This was real.

    And ''real'' meant someone had been here. Recently.

    I turned my gaze to the bathtub. Immaculate. Spotless. At first glance, it looked like no one had touched it in weeks.

    But then I saw it¡ªa faint ring around the top edge.

    Someone had cleaned, but only their obvious mess. The kind of cleaning job meant to erase something specific¡ªnot regular upkeep.

    The waterline was still there, a ghost of whatever had been scrubbed away.

    Quick job. Rushed. Done just well enough to fool a baseline human, not someone without my eyes.

    I ran a finger along the edge, feeling the slight difference in texture.

    Not just cleaned¡ªsanded.

    A lot of pressure went into this. Too much.

    Whoever did this wasn¡¯t just trying to scrub something away¡ªthey were erasing evidence.

    And they knew enough to do it properly. Almost.

    I walked out the bathroom back into the living room, no grand room, staring at the dots. Obvious lead to underneath the rug. But somethign was bothering me. Something was off.

    I let my eyes sweep the space again, taking in the silence.

    "I think I''ll take a look around, I feel like someone or something is here TAI." I said under my breath, casual. Just an observation.

    "Negative Kay, stay on mission, check that rug."

    Her tone was sharp. Too sharp.

    The kind she reserved for emergencies.

    The kind she reserved for telling the kids, ''GYMFAHBIBYA''. Good times.

    But weird. Why was she pressing this hard?

    Guess the stress was getting to her.

    ¡°Roger, Roger,¡± I muttered, moving toward the carpet.

    The coffee table was massive, on top of said carpet, dominated the center of the room like it was trying to make a statement.

    A statement like ¡°Don¡¯t look under me please.¡±

    I crouched and grabbed the edge, shifting my weight as I pushed it aside. It was heavy, solid wood¡ªthree-people-to-move heavy at least. And expensive wood at that. Not impractical, but not exactly lived-in either. The kind of thing a man with too much money and no personality buys to impress people he never planned to have over.

    It took some effort, but I slid it across the floor, expecting the familiar resistance of wood on wood.

    Instead, it moved too smoothly.

    I looked down. No drag marks. No scuffs. The floor beneath was pristine.

    Even after I moved it, it was like it had never been touched.

    I ran my fingers over the surface, frowning. Some kind of protective layer?

    I didn¡¯t know. Didn¡¯t need to. Just another detail that didn¡¯t sit right about this place.

    The rug underneath was thick, high-quality. I ran my fingers along the edge and peeled it back.

    Nothing.

    Just wood.

    I exhaled through my nose. That wasn¡¯t right.

    The blood trail had cut past the rug¡¯s edge and tapered off abruptly. I crouched lower to where it stopped, pressing my palm against the smooth wooden floor.

    At first glance, it was seamless. But the planks were off.

    Not by much. Less than a millimeter.

    A hairline divide that wasn¡¯t visible unless you were looking for it and I was.

    I ran my fingers across it. No handle. No paneling. Completely smooth.

    That meant the trigger was somewhere else.

    I stood and let my eyes drift across the room¡¯s layout. The coffee table was surrounded by lounger chairs¡ªplush, deep-seated, the kind you sank into and never wanted to leave.

    Damn. I really needed to upgrade my setup at home.

    Between them, small end tables, positioned for convenience.

    And then I saw it.

    One of them¡ªoff the rug, against the wall¡ªhad something unusual.

    A thin, black wire ran from its base¡ªstraight into the floor.

    I walked over, crouching beside it.

    A lamp? No. No power source. No charger. No wall outlet nearby.

    This wasn¡¯t for convenience. It was for control.

    I ran my fingers along the underside of the table.

    Click.

    A hidden panel on the under plane of the table slid open, revealing a small manual switch.

    No WiFi. No Bluetooth. No external connection to the outside world. Just good old fashioned hardwired security.

    Whoever built this wasn¡¯t worried about hackers. They were worried about intruders. Intruders like me.

    I pressed the switch.

    The floor groaned softly beneath me as the hydraulics kicked in, the hidden door lifting without a sound.

    A stairwell descended into darkness.

    I stared down. Cold air drifted up, faintly metallic¡ªthe scent of machines, coolant, and something else.

    Blood.

    ¡°Close the doors behind you, Kay,¡± TAI said, her voice even.

    I frowned. ¡°Weirdly specific.¡±

    ¡°Do it.¡±

    I did.

    "Ok, but my safety word is electromagnetism"

    Intelligence TAI has weird fetishes.

    The lower level was larger than I expected. Half-lab, half-garage, and all business.

    It was divided into sections¡ªeach one serving a distinct, coldly efficient purpose.

    At the far end, a row of inspection tables. Eight slots. Four on each side.

    The first three were empty. The latter four were occupied.

    Four androids. All male. All awake.

    Their eyes tracked me. Not blank, not hostile. Just¡­ waiting.

    Controlled. Stilled. As if they had been told to wait.

    Some lay whole, untouched. Others¡­ not so much.

    One had his torso split open, components exposed like an unfinished project. His head twitched slightly, mouth parted as if he had been mid-sentence when they stopped him.

    Another was missing everything below the waist, resting on the table as if someone had meant to come back and finish the job¡ªbut never did. His fingers tensed, then relaxed, then tensed again. A loop. A half-executed process stuck in limbo.

    At the far end, one was missing his entire face plate. Cranial AI socket exposed. His optics were still powered, tracking movement, but there was no expression left to show.

    A few of them had parts removed with careful precision. Others had sections missing like they had been ripped apart in a hurry.

    This wasn¡¯t a repair shop.

    This was a chop shop.

    A factory for taking things apart and deciding which pieces were still useful.

    I exhaled slowly. They were awake through all of it.

    They knew.

    And they were still waiting.

    And then, there was the fifth section.

    A massacre.

    Four bodies on the ground in various posses of distress.

    One with his pants off.

    Limbs missing¡ªnot by a blade, but by force. Arm-to-arm fighting. Precise. Not panicked.

    I cataloged the damage. I¡¯d seen this before. Too clean. Too exact.

    ¡°We¡¯ll send a cleanup team for the droids. And the mess. Check around for any clues to who''s their suppliers.¡± TAI said

    ¡°And authorities?¡±

    ¡°They don¡¯t need to know. This is our mess, Kay.¡±

    I scanned the bodies. Mateo Falieri.

    Dead before he could give them anything.

    That meant someone else had the real answers.

    I turned my attention to the first android on the table. Stripped down, half-dismantled.

    I found the AI unit behind him on the table. A pre-current gen prototype. Bagged. Sealed. Stored like an afterthought.

    A sticky note was attached:

    ¡°Tell KM she needs to get more current versions. Already outdated.¡±

    My jaw tightened. KM.

    ¡°TAI. You seeing this?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m seeing everything, Kay. And¡ª¡±

    ¡°Kay. Get the hell out of there.¡±

    I snapped my head up.

    ¡°Company?¡±

    ¡°Worse. Dead man¡¯s switch. I¡¯m trying to interrupt it, but it¡¯s not good, Kay. Get out now!¡±

    The room¡¯s lights shifted. A slow red pulse.

    The only question was¡ªhow long did I have?

    I turned, scanning for the fastest way out. No visible exits. No vents, no tunnels. This place wasn¡¯t built to let people out¡ªit was built to keep them in.

    But I knew the layout of the building. This lab was under the penthouse, but it wasn¡¯t a standalone space.

    The fire escape.

    Falieri¡¯s penthouse had one, and that meant the same escape column should be running down through this floor too. They had walled it off, but the structure would still be there.

    I mapped my position in my head, lining up the space against the original building plans.

    There.

    I turned and sprinted toward the far wall, the one running parallel to the canal-facing side of the building. If my calculations were right, the fire escape stairwell was on the other side.

    I slammed my palm against the surface and ran my fingers along the edges. No seams, no doors. They had sealed it tight.

    That didn¡¯t mean I couldn¡¯t open it myself.

    I stepped back, squared up, and drove my fist straight into the wall.

    A dull, metallic crunch. Reinforced, but not reinforced enough.

    A second hit. The surface cracked.

    A third¡ªthe wall caved inward, exposing the old fire escape stairwell behind it.

    There. The stairwell was still intact. Rust-covered, dust-filled, but it would get me out.

    I bolted down the stairs, taking three steps at a time. The red pulse of the alarm flashed against the walls as I left, casting everything in jagged, shifting shadows.

    ¡°Kay, MOVE!¡± TAI¡¯s voice was sharp in my ear.

    ¡°No kidding,¡± I muttered, pushing harder.

    The stairwell was tight, reinforced metal and concrete, designed to keep people out, not let them escape.

    I could feel the vibrations in the walls. Something was happening.

    Timed detonation? Structural collapse? Gas release?

    I didn¡¯t plan on sticking around to find out.

    I hit the last landing, shoulder-checking the exit door.

    It burst open into a side alley, the cold night air slamming into me like a wall.

    The van was already there, idling, back door open.

    Mai leaned out, waving me in. ¡°Hurry up!¡±

    I dove in, Manuel sliding the door shut behind me.

    ¡°Any Company?¡± I asked, shoving myself into a seat.

    ¡°Negative.¡± Manuel barely looked out the back windows. 	¡°Quiet. Too quiet.¡±

    Rodrigo punched the gas, and the van lurched forward, tires skidding on the damp pavement before gripping.

    I glanced at the side mirror.

    No pursuit. No sirens.

    That was worse.

    A job like this should¡¯ve had half the city breathing down our necks. Instead, nothing. Like someone had decided not to look.

    TAI saw it too.

    ¡°Fire responders are on the way, should clear before they get here. ¡±

    I exhaled slowly.

    We didn¡¯t stop. Didn¡¯t wait to see who would come sniffing around the rubble.

    Venice¡¯s docks were prepped.

    A private mooring near the lagoon, secured through Hugh¡¯s contacts.

    The yacht was waiting.

    Mai was already out of the van and on board, arms crossed, watching as I walked onboard.

    ¡°Thought you were gonna get vaporized back there,¡± she said as I stepped off the boat.

    ¡°Nice to see you too, doll.¡±

    She smirked but didn¡¯t move.

    The engines were already humming, and we were ready to go.

    Rodrigo and Manuel didn¡¯t waste time. They grabbed their gear and drove off without a word.

    Within minutes, we were out of the lagoon, Venice disappearing behind us.

    The mission wasn¡¯t over. But for now, we were gonna be ghosts.

    That thought had barely cleared my head when my comm pinged.

    I glanced at it, debating whether to ignore it.

    Vinny.

    I sighed and answered. ¡°Yeah, Vinny, I¡¯m alive.¡±

    ¡°Bueno, bueno!¡± he exhaled, like he¡¯d been holding his breath. ¡°That¡¯s good news. Bad news is¡­ Kay, what the hell did you do? I got suits crawling all over the Questura talking about a data breach. A big one.¡±

    I smirked. Of course.

    ¡°You know me, Vinny. Just sightseeing.¡±

    ¡°Sightseeing?!¡± he hissed. ¡°Madonna, Kay! These people aren¡¯t tourists, they¡¯re the kind that don¡¯t blink and don¡¯t leave until they have answers!¡±

    ¡°Sounds like a you problem.¡±

    ¡°You¡¯re a real bastard, you know that?¡±

    ¡°So I¡¯ve been told.¡±

    He muttered something in Italian that I¡¯m pretty sure wasn¡¯t a compliment.

    ¡°Listen, you sure you¡¯re safe?¡±

    I looked around the yacht. Mai watching me from the deck, arms crossed. TAI monitoring from my feed. The dark waters stretching out ahead.

    ¡°Vinny,¡± I said, stretching back in my seat, ¡°I¡¯m off-island. I¡¯m good.¡±

    He exhaled again. ¡°Fine. But you owe me a drink next time you¡¯re in Venice, capito?¡±

    ¡°We¡¯ll see.¡±

    I cut the call before he could argue.

    Mai raised an eyebrow. ¡°Who was that?¡±

    I flicked my comm off. ¡°A reminder that Venice gets really antsy when you borrow their secrets.¡±

    She smirked. ¡°And here I thought we were just sightseeing.¡±

    I grinned. ¡°See? Now you get it.¡±

    The yacht cut through the waves. Tulanto was waiting.