CH 203

The bailiff escorting Horace Lee stopped him and took away the folded antibacterial paper napkin. The thick glass booth isolated their movements, so not many people noticed this even though he was in the defendant’s dock.

Meanwhile, the jurors were lining up to take their seats. Everyone was looking that way, and the judge already had his gavel raised high. 

Dong.

Under the undivided attention of countless people across the alliance, the Elderly Bobblehead case officially kicked off in the Supreme Court of De Carma.

And outside of the courtroom, there were some waiting for this moment.

In Honeycomb Media, Bens and Hersey, who was almost late for the trial, were sitting in front of the photon computer, gaping blankly at the visitor in a suit in front of them. 

The visitor was assistant to the man at the top of Spring Ivy Group, Devore Yves.

A few days before, he had received a mission from his own boss and the two lawyers.

Now, it was time for him to get the ball rolling.

Bens read the information packet the other had passed over.

It was actually an assortment of news story abstracts. On its own, each wasn’t enough to paint the full picture, but they sufficed to outline the funny business that the Manson brothers were up to over the years.

The more Bens read, the more alarmed he got. “Are these… real? The people who had passed away back in the day, and the Sweeper, the genetic virus, the infection… oh god, they’re all linked?”

“The two of you are reporters, are you not? I believe that you are much more discerning than most,” said the assistant.

For some reason, it chastened Bens to hear this. 

The scale was too big for him to fully digest it for a while, but then at the thought of the countless photos that he had taken over the years, he suddenly saw clarity.

Bens pointed at a few of the pages and asked the assistant, “Did… Dean Yan agree for these to be published? Truth be told, he and Lawyer Gu are my greatest fears at the moment. If I were to get on their bad side, I’ll—”

“Don’t worry. More than agree to it,” the assistant said, “they chose to publish these at this time. They were the ones who put forward the idea.”

Hersey looked even more confounded. 

He glanced at his own smart device, then at the pieces in the information packet pertaining to the Sweeper. “I just emailed Lawyer Gu… did they already know who the Sweeper was? Then why did they have to bother finding out?”

The assistant pursed his lips. “Neither lawyer is fond of making speculations. I guess… gut feeling will never compare to incriminating links and evidence for them.”

“Also, can these even be successfully published?” Bens was slightly worried. “After reading these, anyone with a brain will know what the Manson family has done. How can the Manson brothers sit back and watch us post these?”

The assistant chuckled. “They won’t be able to see it.” 

“Qts?”

Ktf jrrlrajca qblcafv ja atf klvf rmgffc j rtbga vlrajcmf jkjs, ktlmt kjr ragfjwlcu atf kjii-ab-kjii ilnf offv bo atf aglji obg atf Sivfgis Dbyyiftfjv mjrf.

“Dfmjerf atfs’gf bc ilnf. Gbc’a obgufa, ys atf geifr bo atf Veqgfwf Jbega, jqjga ogbw atf gfqgfrfcalcu ijksfgr, cb bcf lr qfgwlaafv ab yglcu atflg rwjga vfnlmfr, qtbabc mbwqeafgr, bg batfg remt vfnlmfr ifra la lcafgofgf klat atf fzfmealbc bo peralmf.”

“Will this be exclusively published by our outlet?” Bens said, “To be honest, our reputation and credibility is far from enough. If we post this, wouldn’t everyone just blow it off as the figment of a rich imagination?” 

“Don’t worry, you’re certainly not the only ones.” The assistant laughed, “It’s just that your outlet has been the first to all the big stories lately, so why not keep it going? As for whether people will take it as fiction or fact… you don’t have to worry about that. It’s long been projected.”

Bens asked, astonished, “Even this can be projected?”

“I’m afraid, when it comes to predicting the resultant response and guiding the emotional impact, there are none more proficient than law practitioners.”

Bens, “…Christ, lawyers are terrifying.” 

The assistant corrected, “Not all lawyers are so difficult.”

Bens, “…First-Class Lawyers are terrifying.”

The assistant said objectively, “One of them is not yet.”

Bens, “He’ll be one sooner or later. Bad company corrupts good morals.” 

The assistant loudly cleared his throat.

“So, are you joining the gang?” Mr Assistant cracked a rare joke.

Exhilaration zipped through Bens. He took a deep inhale and then nodded. “Of course.”

The reason that he had taken so many photos covering the past, above all, was due to the niggling suspicion he had about them. 

Only, the pursuit of truth was a treacherous road that he wasn’t able to brave.

Thankfully, there was more than one who had persisted through it all. They took years to get to today, but get here they did, so when they could finally expose the truth to the world, he, as a reporter, had no reason not to join.

At 10:02 a.m., on the alliance-wide courtroom livestream, the jurors were taking their oath, swearing to uphold justice. 

An exposé with the headline ‘Uncovering the truth behind the explosion’ was published out of the blue. As it was posted on Honeycomb Media by reporters Bens and Hersey, it immediately gained as much attention as it had four days ago when it was announced that Yan Suizhi was still alive.

Easing them into the full story through Yan Suizhi’s ‘death’ was the angle that would catch the most traction from the public.

First, let them understand that the explosion that Yan Suizhi was involved in was more than an accident, but a covert murder attempt. Then, link this murder to the many ‘accidents’ across the years, like the medical capsule manufacturer who overdosed on painkillers, Ms Lucy who committed suicide in prison, Professor Zhou, the medical school professor, and so on, so forth.

Bens and Hersey’s extensive photo gallery came into play here. 

Eventually, people would work out that this was all part of a connected whole.

While this assistant was pulling strings in the media industry, Devore Yves’ other assistant didn’t stay idle. He contacted the police force.

After learning that Jack White had been found, the fake nurse Amy Borro abruptly stopped resisting.

While she wasn’t particularly cooperative, she did divulge some information, the majority related to Jack White, but also some about other parties. She was one of the Manson Group’s major breaches. 

The police chief didn’t even put on a stink face anymore. He was in a chirpier mood, and was especially amenable to anything.

Devore Yves’ assistant provided him some information, which naturally also included the photographs of the Sweeper that Hersey had found. So, the police chief took a break from watching the courtroom livestream to bring Amy Borro up for questioning again.

The police chief didn’t waste a single word, directly pushing the photos in front of her.

Amy Borro’s eyes narrowed into slits as she glanced down at them. She snorted. “After so many days of dutifully watching him at the hospital, have your colleagues finally thought to question his identity?” 

The police chief was filled with anger. “Even if we’d asked on the first day, would you have answered?”

Amy Borro snorted again.

“So, he is indeed the Sweeper?”

“The Sweeper?” Amy Borro echoed. “Is that what you call him? That works, it’s quite fitting. This Sweeper is quite something to reckon with. His death count is innumerable.” 

“For example?”

“For example? Don’t kid around, how would I know.” Amy Borro whispered, “I was still studying when he first started working for the big bosses. That’s almost thirty years back.”

“Tell me the recent ones, then. Or whatever you know. Like why you’ve drugged him several times.”

“You tell me.” Amy Borro arched a slender eyebrow. “Haven’t you heard that you should stew your hounds after the prey is caught?” 

Who can’t make guesses? But will good guesses help to close a case? The police chief swore vehemently in his head but he still had to coax this lady into revealing more.

“He used to be the go-to guy whenever anyone needed to be cleaned up. He’s experienced, he has all sorts of ways to escape arrest after all the training he has had under the big bosses’ wing since reaching adulthood.”

Amy Borro said, “But he’s been fading out over the last two years. It could have started because he wanted out, after seeing the world maybe he suddenly wanted to pass life more peacefully? He was slick in his crimes, very skilled at deceiving people. But he also had an achilles heel; he liked to show off from time to time. The bosses picked up on his flighty mood and then the missions assigned to him started to decrease. I can give you some examples for this, actually.”

“Oh?” 

“For example, the explosion case that has been in the spotlight again, and the Elderly Bobblehead case that’s on trial.” Amy Borro said, “The recent stuff doesn’t involve him. You know what that means? It means he’s useless now.”

“He realised, too. There’s no peace for the wicked. If he really wanted a break, then he wouldn’t be far from death. He tried to fight for it a few times to no avail.” Amy Borro recalled. “There were rumours going around that he’d go check around the crime scenes to see who it was that had taken his place.”

“Who was it?”

“There’s no who.” Amy Borro said, “The big bosses stopped using a fixed guy, even if using a fixed guy allowed him to accumulate experience.” 

After the explosion case, the Sweeper watched with his own two eyes as the insane suspect got apprehended, and he promptly abandoned all thoughts of making himself a pawn again. He started running.

“You know how it goes. Running the normal way would never work. You’ll get dug up no matter where you hide. That is the experience that almost thirty years of evading authorities had taught him, and he relied on genetic modification surgery to escape every time. In the past, the big bosses would arrange it for him, but not this time. He likely went to the black market.”

Amy Borro scorned. “If he can think of this, so can others. The big bosses stationed men in the black market to mess around with the Sweeper’s genetic modification surgery. Have this surgery be his death, fake it so that he had a run in with an underground clinic and died from surgical infection.”

The policemen suddenly stood straight. “Clinic? Infection?” 

“Sounds familiar, does it not?” Amy Borro continued. “The Sweeper is a very paranoid man, so when he discovered something afoot, he passed the danger on to someone else to wriggle out of it. After the incubation period, there was a sudden outbreak. Word spread, and it became the most talked about viral infection a while back.”

“Fuck!”

The interrogation room was filled with cussing.

Two evils were at outs, yet innocent civilians got caught in the crossfire. 

“But he wasn’t able to completely get away. He still got infected all the same.” Amy Borro said, “He got cocky. He thought that he had resolved it perfectly so there was no way that he could get infected, which was why he looked so incredulous to be hospitalised.”

“Likewise for the Elderly Bobblehead case. He was probably forced into a corner by the big bosses and thought that the only way to save his life was to put himself in plain sight, with a million eyes on him. Then, the odds of there being attempts on his life would be lower. So, he pretended to be involved in the Elderly Bobblehead case and left traces of himself everywhere. With that, he would be put under the nose of the police and the big bosses would naturally not dare to act out. As it turned out, the big bosses simply spun it to their advantage by shifting the whole focus of the case onto him, pushing the other suspect out of play, then influencing public opinion to sentence him to a death that he never saw coming.”

Amy Borro’s eyes snapped towards the door of the interrogation room. She said, “Are you watching the courtroom livestream out there? Let’s put it this way: If the Sweeper is found guilty in this case, then he has indeed been wronged, and the big bosses will be elated to see that become reality. But if he’s found not guilty, then, with his experience, it will be a lot harder to nap him again after that.”

“For those of you sticklers to justice, the trial today is a dead end.” 

As the interrogation room fell silent, at the Supreme Court of De Carma, the judge nodded at the prosecutor, saying solemnly, “You may begin your opening statement.”