BIA Ch. 148

“What the!”

Isaiah shouted, pinned beneath Mickey’s heavy body. He didn’t need to lift his head to know who had been shot. Thud. With a heavy sound, Kestrel had collapsed onto the floor. Blood was gushing uncontrollably from his back. Judging by the location and the amount of blood, the bullet had clearly pierced his heart.

“What in the world…”

His mind seemed to go blank in the face of the completely unexpected situation. Isaiah didn’t even think to push Mickey off him; he just questioned Samuel, who was still holding the pistol.

“Why did you shoot him? Don’t tell me, because of the drugs?”

“What? As if!”

Samuel made a face as if the idea was absurd.

“Then what is it? Murder charges?”

“What are you talking about? What does it matter to me whether this guy committed murder or not?”

I’ve killed a few people myself. Shoving the pistol into his back pocket, Samuel scoffed. He grabbed the arm of Mickey, who was still lying on top of Isaiah, helped him up, and only then spoke belatedly in a feignedly respectable tone.

“It just happened like this during a physical struggle. In other words, self-defense.”

“What kind of bullshit is that.”

Unable to comprehend the words, Isaiah finally lost his temper. Mickey, who had gotten up in the meantime, extended a hand to Isaiah and said.

“Basically, it’s like this. After all the missions were completed, Samuel lured this man to take him to Liberty Port, but in the process, the man caught on, leading to a physical fight. This man pulled out a pistol, and ultimately, Samuel had no choice but to shoot first to protect himself. Fortunately, Martino’s stance was that he just needed the body delivered, even a corpse would do.”

“What…”

Finally understanding what the two FBI agents were plotting, Isaiah muttered with a stunned face. He understood the plan intellectually, but he wasn’t sure if it was really possible, or if it was okay to do this.

As if fully understanding Isaiah’s reaction, Mickey took the initiative, grabbed his hand, and helped him up, saying.

“This man is a sniper belonging to WD. He’s the one who, commissioned by Chester Callici, murdered seven of Martino’s subordinates over the past seven months.”

“What nonsense…”

“Codename: Lanius.”

Mickey stated decisively, as if driving a nail. As if on cue, Samuel snatched the caddy bag slung over Isaiah’s shoulder and interjected.

“Too big for a shrike, though.”

Kestrel definitely suits him better. He added, taking the M24A2 out of Isaiah’s caddy bag.

“Then again, you don’t look much like Lanius right now either. Black eagle suits you better.”

Samuel began meticulously wiping the M24A2 with a reel towel that had been inside the caddy bag. It seemed his intention was to remove all of Isaiah’s fingerprints from the rifle, then imprint Kestrel’s fingerprints before putting it back in his bag.

“…Do you think it’ll work?”

Isaiah muttered, still slumped on the floor. The edge of his pants had already begun to get damp with the blood Kestrel had spilled. Forcing Isaiah, who showed no intention of getting up or avoiding the pooling blood, to stand and lean against the desk, Mickey said.

“As I mentioned before, Martino only knows that the sniper Chester hired belongs to WD. He knows nothing else. Not the codename, not the background. Only that the man uses a pistol modified to fire KTW rounds.”

This one. Mickey pulled the M1911 from Isaiah’s back pocket. He tossed it to Samuel, who began wiping the fingerprints off that pistol too.

“You think just bringing that pistol is enough…”

Isaiah muttered, pressing his hand to his forehead.

“Of course not.”

Mickey retorted as if he had been waiting.

“Taten is an office building, so there are several security CCTVs at the building entrance and elevators. Given meticulous Manny’s personality, it’s highly likely he personally escorted Kestrel, who was visiting for the first time. We should be able to easily secure CCTV footage of the two entering and exiting Taten together.”

“It’d be even better if Chester was with them.”

Samuel, having quickly wiped Isaiah’s pistol clean, placed it in Kestrel’s hand. He made him grip it multiple times from various angles, with both hands. Then Samuel shoved the pistol, now thoroughly covered in fingerprints, into Kestrel’s back pocket.

Watching the blatant fabrication of evidence, Isaiah still muttered in disbelief.

“Is it okay for the FBI to do this…?”

“Sorry, but I’m mafia.”

Samuel replied shamelessly and resumed wiping Isaiah’s M24A2, which he had briefly set aside. Isaiah looked up at Mickey standing before him.

“Mickey.”

“The FBI isn’t a relief organization.”

Mickey also said calmly. He seemed to want to say it as shamelessly as Samuel, but perhaps couldn’t quite manage it. Then, Mickey shrugged as if he couldn’t help it.

“And as an FBI agent, my mission is to protect you. My orders from above were not to consider anything else.”

“Still.”

“Or, is there a better way?”

Mickey asked, cutting Isaiah off as he started to speak. It wasn’t an accusatory tone. Rather, it sounded almost pleading.

“If there’s a better way, please tell us.”

Samuel also spoke while wiping the rifle. “It doesn’t even have to be a particularly good way.”

“It can be a bad way. Even the worst way wouldn’t matter. If there was any other way at all, we would have taken it. But there wasn’t. This was literally the only way.”

What about me going to Martino?

Isaiah couldn’t bring himself to voice the words caught in his throat. He knew very well that wasn’t the ‘way’ the two men were talking about. On the contrary, these two were looking for a way to avoid that exact situation. To bring it up, knowing full well what they meant, would be deceitful. Deceitful towards the two men, deceitful towards the dead Kestrel. And above all, deceitful towards Bran, who had thrown away even his own safety net to save him.

“We had no choice.”

Sensing the resignation finally settling on Isaiah’s face, Mickey spoke with a slightly subdued air. His tone pleaded for understanding of their choice.

“Bran warned us repeatedly. To protect you to the end, no matter what.”

“It wasn’t a warning. It was a blatant threat.”

Samuel clicked his tongue as he pressed Kestrel’s fingerprints onto Isaiah’s M24A2, which he had polished to a shine. Mickey nodded.

“If we send you to Martino, our project ends here. Ten years of effort will go up in smoke.”

Mickey asked him to consider the effort and time sacrificed by everyone involved in this project.

“And the ultimate goal of this project isn’t simply to make Bran the boss. It’s to completely reorganize the organized crime world of Eloy City, centered around the Kalisz family he leads. The aim is to better ensure the safety of Eloy City’s citizens, even if just a little.”

“…..”

“It may sound cold, but if we can preserve all that by sacrificing Kestrel’s single life, isn’t that obviously the right course of action?”

Isaiah couldn’t say anything. What could he possibly say? Instead, he looked down at Kestrel lying on the floor.

Blood was still gushing from Kestrel’s back. Shot at point-blank range, right behind him, Kestrel probably died without even realizing he’d been shot.

Isaiah pushed himself up from leaning against the desk. Mickey quickly stepped aside. Isaiah approached Kestrel’s body.

Isaiah touched Kestrel’s cheek. The skin was still warm. And despite the gruesome state of the corpse, his expression was remarkably peaceful. With his eyes open, he looked as if he were lost in a pleasant daydream. While dying without knowing he was dying played a part, it was more likely due to the Rohypnol he had taken just before. The drug’s sedative effect brings a pleasant languor to mind and body.

Isaiah closed Kestrel’s eyes. It was the only thing he could do.