BIA Ch. 115

Isaiah went to the foster father’s bedroom on the second floor, picked up the rifle, and approached the window. The lights were still off. Without moving the curtains, he opened the window just about half a handspan. He precisely shouldered the rifle’s stock between his shoulder and chest and inserted only the muzzle slightly through the window gap. Through the night vision goggles, the residential alley, now appearing entirely green, was illuminated by yellow headlight beams. Then, a black Ford sedan came into view.

Isaiah released the rifle’s safety lock. He centered the scope’s bright red reticle on the upper part of the driver’s seat, then slowly moved it sideways, tracking the car’s movement. Soon, the car stopped in front of the main entrance. A few seconds later, the driver’s door opened, and a red, human-shaped mass emerged from the car. This was thanks to the night vision goggles displaying the heat radiating from his body as visible light. Isaiah aimed so the red figure’s head was precisely caught in the crosshairs. The moment the image in the crosshairs sharpened, he pulled the trigger.

Shuk- The bullet fired silently, and almost immediately, the red figure collapsed on the spot. Another shadow, belatedly getting out of the passenger seat, was seen jumping back into the car in fright. For someone of that size, his movements were as quick as a rat’s.

From this distance, he could have easily put a bullet through the car window and into the head, but unfortunately, the angle wasn’t right.

Unable to snipe. Find the next alternative. His hand moved before his brain could command. Isaiah mechanically adjusted the height of the muzzle. Looking at the red dot of the reticle rather than the crosshairs, he pulled the trigger. Bang! With a loud noise, the car’s front tire collapsed. Then the rear tire also burst with a pop. The sound of the tires bursting was louder than the gunshot.

Confirming the car had completely settled onto the road, Isaiah moved the muzzle back towards the driver’s seat. He waited, ready to pull the trigger the moment the rat got out, when suddenly he felt a vibration in his pants pocket. The smartphone he had received from Bran was in his right pants pocket.

Normally, he would have ignored it, but the phone, which had been silent the entire time, ringing at this specific moment felt like a bad omen.

Isaiah shifted the rifle to his left hand and took out the cell phone with his right. The incoming number displayed on the screen was unfamiliar. At least, it wasn’t Bran’s phone number. Sure enough, as soon as he pressed the call button, a voice he had never heard before shouted from the speaker.

「Lanius!」

Instead of answering, Isaiah wedged the phone between his shoulder and cheek. Gripping the rifle with both hands again, he pushed the muzzle through the window gap. Perhaps sensing something from the silence, the person on the other end spoke urgently.

「I assume you realize, given that we contacted you with this cell phone. We were sent by Bran Wiseman. We are not your enemies.」

“Sent by Bran?” Isaiah asked, moving the scope’s reticle back to the driver’s seat.

「That’s correct.」

“Kalisz Organization Members?”

「No. FBI agents.」

Judging by his tone, he certainly wasn’t mafia.

Isaiah sighed silently, then commanded in a low voice, “Hands up, get out of the car.”

A clattering sound came through the phone. Then the car door opened, and the rat got out. The red shadow could be seen holding one hand high above his head. His other hand held the phone.

“Come to the front door just like that.”

The rat hesitated, then began to walk. Isaiah went down to the first floor, rifle still in hand.

“Wait with both hands up.”

He could sense the other person’s sigh over the receiver. Then came a sound like a whoosh of air. It seemed he had raised his other hand without ending the call.

Reaching the first floor, Isaiah checked outside through the peephole. A man in a black suit stood before the door, both hands raised. Isaiah put the cell phone into his pants pocket and opened the door. The man flinched noticeably, hands still raised.

Isaiah aimed the rifle’s muzzle at the red shadow’s head and gave a slight nod. Even through the night vision goggles, he could see the rat’s complexion turning paler by the second. As the man hesitantly stepped inside, Isaiah first snatched the cell phone from his hand and threw it onto the floor.

“Keep your hands up.”

The rat stood rigidly frozen, hands raised. Isaiah, still aiming the rifle, lightly frisked him using only one hand. He felt a pistol holstered at the man’s right side. True to being FBI, he was diligently wearing a holster strap as well. The pistol was also an FBI standard issue Glock 17. Plastic guns were too light for his taste, but a pistol registered under someone else’s name could be useful in various ways. Isaiah shoved the pistol into his own back pants pocket. He also took the wallet from the man’s pants pocket. He saw the rat’s chest heave deeply.

After confirming there were no other weapons, Isaiah finally lowered the rifle and turned on the house lights. As the room suddenly brightened, the rat narrowed his eyes.

“Come in.”

He commanded while taking off the night vision goggles. The rat, still squinting, hesitantly walked forward. Leading him inside, Isaiah positioned the nervously glancing rat in the middle of the living room, then sat down on the sofa himself. Placing the rifle beside him, he opened the wallet he had taken from the rat.

The first thing that caught his eye was the FBI identification card. More accurately, the photo attached to it. He was handsome enough that calling him a rat felt somewhat inappropriate. Isaiah finally raised his head to look at the face of the man standing before him. He looked much better in person than in the photo. Perhaps it was the striking contrast between his sea-blue eyes and light brown hair. His height was similar to Isaiah’s own, but his build was much better. Yet, his face retained a youthful quality, making him seem cute. His features contributed to this, but the faint blush lingering on both cheeks added to the younger, softer impression. In short, he was the type gays would go crazy for.

“How old are you?”

“……Twenty-Six.”

So he wasn’t just young-looking, he was young. Isaiah dropped his gaze back to the ID card. Only then did the name and signature below the photo come into view. Maximilian Apelt. Looked German. In any case, he didn’t like such a grandiose name for a rat. Isaiah folded the wallet and tossed it at the man’s feet.

“Alright, Mickey. Continue what you were saying earlier.”

“My name is Maximilian.” The rat frowned.

“Mickey.”

“Why not even Max……”

Isaiah silently reached for the rifle placed on the sofa. The rat gasped, “Huk,” and quickly raised his hands again.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Ah, alright. I’ll talk, so please, could you just put that gun down?” The rat—no, Mickey—pleaded. When Isaiah lowered the rifle, he bent down to pick up the wallet at his feet.

“You know Bran Wiseman is FBI, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then……” Mickey, having put the wallet in his back pocket, suddenly looked around.

“What are you doing?”

“No, it’s just that this story might take a while.” In short, he was looking for somewhere to sit. Despite his timidity, he was the type to look out for his own comfort. Isaiah kicked the stool beside his leg forward with his foot. Mickey eyed the stool, infinitely small compared to his frame, with an apprehensive look but carefully lowered himself onto it.

“The FBI intended to make Bran the head of the Kalisz family. Internally, this was called the RAC project.”

“RAC?”

“Requeening A Colony. It’s a term from beekeeping referring to the process of replacing an old queen bee with a new one.” Mickey explained that this project was top secret even within the FBI, and currently, only five people, including the director in charge, Edgar Derby, knew the details.

“Now it’s four.” Mickey’s face instantly clouded over. He spoke with an expression like he was about to cry.

“Billy was my senior agent. Among the five, we were the only two SAs—Special Agents. The other three were all executive level. We were assigned to this project ten days ago. The first mission was unexpected, so it felt a bit anticlimactic, but still, Billy and I took pride in it……”

“What was the first mission?” Isaiah cut Mickey off. Mickey’s gloomy eyes turned towards Isaiah.

“An escort, so to speak. Taking you to a safe place—”

“A safe place?” Isaiah cut Mickey off again. Mickey belatedly shut his mouth, his face showing an ‘oops’ expression.

“Then where is the dangerous place? Taten? Dubel?”

“……”

“Eloy City?”

Mickey couldn’t say anything. Isaiah clicked his tongue and picked up the M24A2. Mickey quickly raised his hands.

“I-I’ll talk. So please.”

“Next time, I’ll shoot without question.” Isaiah gave a final warning and placed the rifle back on his thigh. Mickey glanced alternately between Isaiah and the rifle resting on Isaiah’s thigh, then let out a low sigh.

“Do you know that Bran has joined hands with the Martino family?”