CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 15

 On the afternoon of the same day, Blake and Pavlov arrived in the Anacostia neighborhood, which consisted mostly of old or abandoned buildings with a historical texture.

 The vast multi-storey building, which looked like it was from the 1940s or 50s and gave the impression that it would collapse at the slightest tremor, was surrounded by rusty wire fences that served as a garden wall. The apartment building, which looked like something out of a horror movie, was surrounded by haphazardly discarded junk, garbage, neglected bushes and grass. Blake and Pavlov parked their cars outside the fence.

 After getting out of his vehicle, Pavlov looked around for a while. It had been more than a year since he had last been here. He couldn't be sure where the entrance was. Then he began to move to the left, following the fence. Arriving here for the first time, Blake followed his friend. Pavlov opened the rusty chain, which appeared to be wrapped around the door, to give the impression that it was locked. When he barely dragged the door open, the two friends were startled by the sound of the dog suddenly starting barking. They were relieved to see that the not-so-hospitable German shepherd twenty yards in front of them was tightly bound.

 As far as could be seen from the windows of the building, there were not many people living inside. Blake thought that at least half of the apartment building was empty. They entered the apartment through the main entrance door. It smelled of dampness inside. Apparently, there were four apartments on each floor. On the right side were the stairs. Instead of going up the stairs, Pavlov began to go down. Blake followed.

 "That young fellow, I think, is more interesting than I thought he was."

 Pavlov smiled and said,

 "You'll decide that in a moment."

 When they went downstairs, the smell of dampness became more pronounced. There was only one apartment on the ground floor which was poorly lit. Pavlov rang the doorbell. But instead of a ringtone, he received a voice command requesting an iris scan for biometric authentication.

 Come on...

 "Jimmy seems to have a very developed sense of humor."

 "It seems to me more like someone with a lot of paranoia."

 Pavlov found the solution by calling Jimmy Perkins. 

 "Hi Jimmy. We stand in front of the door. Will you let us in if you don't mind it?" Please use one of the fingerprint or iris scanning methods."

 "Look at me, you fucker, are you kidding me?" 

 "Of course I'm kidding, big man. Don't get angry right away, wait two seconds, I'm going to turn it on."

 From behind the door, several different locks were heard. Immediately after, the old door creaked open, contrasting with the state-of-the-art devices mounted on it. Behind the door appeared a swarthy man of about thirty-five years of age, tall, thin, with long hair and thick glasses.

 "Hi Boris, come on in..."

 Blake's eye was caught by cameras and motion sensors placed in every corner of the house. They moved to the largest of the rooms. In the space, which turned out to be a study room, there were two large desks, monitors of different sizes and models on the tables, advanced computers and private servers, and many other technological trinkets. It was clear that Perkins spent most of his time alone writing code and dealing with security systems. On the left side of the tables were augmented reality systems, which Blake guessed the young man used to simulate complex attack scenarios and identify security vulnerabilities. Adjacent to the wall on the right, in addition to all this technological crowd, there was also a library that kept books on the same topics and Jimmy's doodles.

 James 'Jimmy' Perkins gestured to the chairs in his room and said,

 "Sit down."

 "I think that's your teacher friend Blake, whom you told me about."

 Simon Blake nodded in agreement.

 "Hi Jimmy, how are you?"

 They quickly passed the introductory chapter. Pavlov told Perkins about the death of Ray Fisher, the incidents of spontaneous combustion, the unexpected visit of Kyla Fisher, and other developments.

 "And that's the part of it that is up to me to infiltrate this biotech company and find out what the hell this guy called Aldric Köhler is up to."

 Pavlov said,

 "Well. You don't have to."

 "Do you have any idea how to do this?"

 Simon Blake replied,

 "Actually, I have something on my mind," and told both Boris Pavlov and Jimmy Perkins what he thought.

 After listening carefully to Blake, Pavlov said,

 "That sounds logical. At least in theory. But if the technical side of it can be overcome, I guess Jimmy will have to answer that."

 Perkins replied to the major,

 "Boris, it's as easy for me as buying milk at the grocery store."

 The two friends stayed at Perkins' house for about an hour, pondering the details, and then left.

 Pavlov asked, "Do you think it will work?"

 "We have no choice but to hope so," Blake said. And that Perkins looks like a very resourceful guy."

 At the same time, Pavlov's phone rang.

 "Hello, Mrs. Fisher. Thank you, I'm fine. Is that so? Good. Wait a second, please, I have to ask Simon about this."

 Pavlov turned to Blake and said,

 "The caller, Kyla Fisher, says her brother can meet us on Saturday. He could come to college in your room. Are you eligible?" she asked.

 Blake nodded by closing and opening his eyes in a "yes."

 "We'll be waiting in Blake's room on Saturday," Pavlov said, turning to Kyla Fisher, who was waiting on the phone.

 After Pavlov hung up, Blake told his friend what had happened to him the previous evening. 

 "You had a chance. I think they just wanted to intimidate."

 "Probably yes. Or, more likely, there was a change in their plans at the last moment."

 "Perhaps. Were you able to get the license plate of the car?"

 " Unfortunately, no."

 "You're welcome. They have already used fake license plates. Well, if we look at the positive side of things..."

 "...we're pretty sure Kyla Fisher isn't dreaming anymore."

CHAPTER 16

 On Saturday, Dorian Fisher was sitting in Simon Blake's room at the university, in the same chair that his sister had sat in a few days earlier.

 Dorian was a thin, long dark hair, pale-skinned, spectacled and goatee. They were about 180 cm tall. The style of clothing was reminiscent of the rockers of the nineties.

 The University of Washington, where Blake worked, and Northwest University, where Dorian earned his Ph.D., were close to each other. So they decided to meet in Blake's room.

 Pavlov asked the first questions. 

 "You know Kyla's allegations. Do you share her thoughts?"

 "In a way..."

 "Why did you mean 'in a way'?"

 Unlike Kyla Fisher, Dorian gave the impression of being a very serious temperament, distant and controlled. He seemed to be planning in advance every single word he was going to say before he spoke.

 "Kyla shared her thoughts with me right after my dad's death. It didn't seem unreasonable to me. However, even if I agree with her, I cannot be as assertive as she is. For the past eight years, I have lived partially separated from my family. I usually stayed only at the mansion on weekends and spent most of my time in the house I kept. Kyla, on the other hand, was constantly in the same house with Tabitha after the death of my father and mother. To make a long story short, Kyla's ideas need to be clearer."

 "I see. Where were you on the day your father passed away?"

 "Kyla informed me of the situation over the phone. I was at Prof. Tyler Benson's house that day. I went to Benson's house to work on my thesis. We normally meet once or twice a week in Mr. Benson's room at school, but he was at home because he didn't have class that day."

 "All right... Have you noticed anything unusual in your father's behavior lately?"

 Dorian Fisher thought again for a moment before speaking.

 "Maybe. I'm not sure if this can be considered something out of the ordinary, but my dad seemed to be over-energized in the last few months."

 "In your opinion, what was the reason for this?"

 "I'm not sure. Kyla had told me that my father had started taking some over-the-counter medications at Tabitha's insistence. Frankly, I haven't seen these drugs."

 "If your sister's opinion that your father was murdered is true, who do you think could have killed him besides Tabitha Fisher?"

 "I can't name you, but it could be someone from the business world or any woman my dad was with."

 Pavlov paused, as if trying to make sure he didn't miss something. Then he continued.

 "Do you know someone named Rusty Richards?"

 "Yes. He is the son of my father's ex-partner. He's in a strong position in the company now and I think he wants to be the new boss."

 Blake listened intently to Pavlov and Dorian's conversations, occasionally writing or drawing something in his notebook in front of him, then continuing to listen.

 "My father's field of work is not for me. Therefore, I have no ambition to replace him after his death. Richards and Kyla are in touch about it. They are trying to handle the sale of our family shares. That's fine with me, too."

 Pavlov turned to Blake and pointed to Dorian Fisher out of the corner of his eye, as if to say,

 "It's your turn."

 Blake's first question surprised Dorian a bit. 

 "What is the subject of your doctoral dissertation, Mr. Fisher?"

 "My thesis is on the genetic basis of neurodegenerative diseases, Mr. Blake."

 "What did you write your master's thesis on?"

 "On the study of gene-editing technologies."

 "What do you plan professionally for the future after submitting your thesis?"

 "I'm thinking of becoming an academic or starting a company related to the health sector."

 "How do you spend your free time?"

 "I don't have a lot of free time. I spend as much as I can reading, listening to classical or rock music, riding my bike, and sometimes playing strategy games on the computer."

 "I see. Have you seen the photos of Ray Fisher after the accident?"

 "I asked the authorities to do so, but they said they couldn't share it with me."

 "Did they explain why they didn't do that?"

 "They said it would affect me bad psychologically."

 "Well, thank you, Mr. Fisher. You have helped us a lot. Is there anything else you want to ask, Boris?"

 "Nope."

 There was a short silence. Dorian Fisher looked at Blake as if to say, 'Is that what you were going to ask?' Blake continued.

 "Your sister has probably mentioned, I will often come and go to your house as Mrs. Kyla Fisher's art teacher for a while, without talking to Tabitha Fisher without arousing suspicion, and to examine the place where your father lives..."

 Dorian Fisher, assuming that Blake made this statement as a question sentence, said,

 "Of course. If my father was indeed the victim of a murder, I would support any step you take to find those responsible."

 "Very nice, Mr. Fisher... Hope to see you again soon..."

CHAPTER 17

 The protocol for safe access to the building for Asklepios & Company's employees consisted of three distinct phases. The company employee first had his ID card, which works with RFID technology, verified, then subjected to retinal scanning, only to reach the security guard who was on guard at the entrance of the interior. The security guard would manually follow the procedures he deemed necessary depending on the situation. For example, in order to prevent the entry of unauthorized materials, he would search the person who wanted to enter as he saw fit, check his identity information on the computer or ask some questions.

 Arriving for the first time at the entrance of the magnificent building of the bio-technology company on Monday morning, the tall young cleaning worker passed through all these stages without any problems with a very calm attitude.

 So far, so good...

 On the face of it, a cleaner was not a priority or a problem for anyone. This situation may have been considered a sad fact from the point of view of sociological science, but in the current situation, Jimmy Perkins was happy with it.

 Over the past few days, thanks to his extraordinary cybernetic skills, he had hacked into Asklepios & Company's security system, figured out exactly how it worked, logged in fake data identifying him as an employee of the company, and psychologically prepared himself for what followed. The system couldn't figure out that something was wrong. He was confident about it. Only a human could recognize that he was an intruder, which was a risk to take, but for now, no one had even made eye contact with him.

 Perkins had learned in advance that Dr. Aldric Köhler's room was on the third floor. He didn't think it was right to rush to act. He had to get used to the environment first. 

CHAPTER 18

 Simon Blake used his personal computer to re-read all the articles he could find about what had happened to Ray Fisher and to examine the images. There was one thing that puzzled him, and his instincts told him that this detail could be the key to clarifying things.

 Blake carefully read the wording used in newspaper headlines on the internet and took notes about which agencies served the images. Later, he watched the news published on the subject on youtube. He scribbled something in his notebook. He compared what he read and watched with the testimony of Megan Cole, Kyla Fisher and Dorian Fisher.

 He could not find an answer to the question he asked, but he remembered that he had an old acquaintance who he hoped could help him with this. 

 I hope I didn't delete the phone number...

 A few seconds later, when he saw the name on the phone number, he smiled slightly and pressed "call".

CHAPTER 19

 The high walls that protected Ray Fisher's majestic manor like a fortress and surrounded the extensive garden gave the building an air of mystery even in the summer heat. The only entrance to the garden was through a huge metalic door between two large marble columns. A twenty-four-hour security guard was waiting in the security booth just inside the gate.

 It was approaching 5:00 p.m. when Simon Blake arrived at Fisher's home. He likened the man's house to Bruce Wayne's mansion in the Batman movie starring Michael Keaton, which he watched in the 80s. and a little bit of Charles Augustus Milverton's mansion in the TV series Jeremy Brett as Sherlock Holmes.

 When Trevis Gough saw the approaching vehicle, he pressed the button that allowed the garden gate to open. The door opened slowly and creakingly. The vehicle entered through the garden gate. 

 "Hi, my name is Simon Blake, I'm Miss Kyla Fisher's teacher." 

 The elderly security guard gestured to the right side of the two dirt roads that curve on either side of the pool in the middle of the garden and said,

 "Here you are, Mr. Blake. Mrs. Fisher is waiting for you."

 Blake continued by thanking the security guard. Seconds later, he was in front of the stately home of the businessman, who was no longer alive. He got out of his vehicle. Trying to convince himself that what he was undertaking was sensible and necessary, he reached out his hand to knock at the door, but before he had a chance to touch it, it opened.

 "Welcome, Mr. Blake. I've been waiting for you."

 "Hello, Ms. Fisher. How are you?"

 The young woman was dressed in a sleeveless T-shirt and a daring leather skirt. She seemed to be able to overcome the loss of her father without taking painting lessons. Once again, Blake had the feeling that something wasn't right. He had learned to trust his intuition by paying the price for not doing so at one time.

 "Relax, Blake, Tabitha is hungover again. I think she sleeps upstairs. There is no one else in the house either. Would you have something to drink?"

 "Something cold would be nice. Since it's calm, let me take advantage of the opportunity to see the surroundings..."

 "Sure. Come with me, let's go to the kitchen together."

 Kyla Fisher made her way past the large hall to the kitchen directly opposite the main entrance door of the house. Blake studied his surroundings as carefully as he could as he followed the young woman.

 On the ground floor of the opulent house there was a large hall for entertaining guests, a reading room, a servant's quarter, a storage room, and a dining room combined with a large kitchen.

 On the walls of the hall were photographs that appeared to belong to Ray Fisher. In some of these, Fisher was seen fishing, in others he was seen receiving various awards from some media outlets. None of the family members were in the photos as far as Blake could see. Two large-scale paintings made in the abstract expressionist style, reminiscent of the works of Jackson Pullock, caught Blake's attention. He wasn't sure if a man like Fisher was interested in such artwork consciously or to show off to his friends. One way or another, there was no doubt that the man loved to show off. The stuffed deer head hanging on the wall said that fish wasn't the only thing Fisher loved to hunt.

 Kyla took the juice out of the fridge and handed it to Blake. Blake took a sip of his drink.

 "Does Tabitha Fisher know I'm coming here?"

 "I mentioned it yesterday, but it didn't quite happen."

 "Does she usually sleep during these hours?"

 "Not necessarily. You never know what she's going to do when."

 "I think you have a room reserved for servants, but I didn't see anyone in the house..."

 "He was there until a few days ago, but he left. We haven't found anyone new yet."

 " I understand. Is the security guard staying here?"

 " Is it old Trevis? No. He prefers to stay in his own house. He lives nearby."

 "I'm guessing he didn't take it on alone."

 "You're right. Twelve hours a day are here. We have another employee for the other twelve hours. Until my father's death, I didn't think we had any reason to be so cautious. But..."

 Blake interjected when he noticed the young woman's pensive gaze.

 "I want to take a look at the upper floors while no one is around. Alone, if possible. Then we'll start the lesson."

 "As you wish, Mr. Blake."

 Simon Blake left his half-drunk juice glass on the large kitchen counter and made his way to the side of the living room. Through the hall, he headed for the stairs leading to the upper floors. When he went up to the second floor, he saw that the environment was quite dark compared to the ground floor. On either side of the narrow corridor were numerous doors leading to rooms that Blake estimated to be relatively small. Tabitha Jenkins Fisher should have been behind one of them.

 Instead of immediately entering one of the rooms, Simon Blake first quietly walked through the dimly lit corridor. Then he decided to enter the one on the right side of the two opposite rooms at the end of the corridor, furthest from the stairs. It was a purely instinctive choice. As he quietly turned the handle of the door, he wondered why he hadn't asked Kyla Fisher which room was Tabitha's.

CHAPTER 20

 Jimmy Perkins spent the first half of the day in the vast hallways of his biotech company, doing what a real cleaner would do, wiping floors. In the afternoon, when he felt a little more attuned to the environment, he went up to the third floor. Perkins could feel like he was almost starting to have fun.

 He walked around the third floor of the giant building with calm steps, cleaning supplies in his hands and a jersey on. While doing this, he tried not to attract attention and glanced at the names written on the rooms, most of which consisted of laboratories. When he was finally sure that he had found the right room, he began to wipe the floors, taking care to keep a distance of ten or fifteen feet from the door. The real exciting part of the job was that it would start after working hours. While observing the people coming in and out of the laboratory, he wished that he could find what he was looking for here and get the job done without further ado.

CHAPTER 21

 When Simon Blake opened the door, he was relieved to see that the room was empty. The room, which was about forty or fifty square meters, appeared to have belonged to Dorian Fisher. The room was tidy. At first glance, it was clear that it was no longer used by anyone all the time. Their curtains were closed. The furniture in the room, which consisted of an empty desk, a bed, a half-emptied bookcase, and a wardrobe, had begun to gather dust. There was no carpet on the floors.

 Blake walked in and closed the door. Looking at the condition of the half-abandoned room, he thought it unlikely that he could make any tangible inferences about the owner's life. First, he browsed the books. He then inspected Dorian Fisher's bed. Finally, he headed to the wardrobe.

 The doors of the large cabinet, made of quality wood material, creaked slightly as they opened. The cupboard was empty, except for hangers of various kinds and a suit. Blake bent down slightly to open the drawers at the bottom of the section of the closet reserved for hanging clothes. Five of the six drawer compartments were almost completely empty. But what he found in one of them surprised Blake. After carefully examining what he had found, he carefully removed some part of it that he thought might be of use to him, and placed it in his pocket. He put the rest of it back where he found it. After taking one last careful look inside, he decided that his work here was done, and left the room to continue his stroll.

 Tabitha Fisher slept in one of the rooms on the second floor when he decided he couldn't comfortably continue his strange stroll here. There was no reason for him to hurry. He would have time to go all over the house and talk to anyone who might have a connection to what was happening. After going up to the third floor just to take a look, he left the search around for later. What he had just found was perhaps too important for him to dig through the house.

 When he came downstairs ten minutes later, Kyla was lying on one of the sofas in the living room, staring at her smartphone.

 "Do you like our house?"

 Blake smiled.

 "Let's move on to the lesson, if you like, Mrs. Fisher. Have you set a place for this?"

 "I think the best place for this will be the library. If you don't mind, of course."

 "The library is OK, Mrs. Fisher."

 The reading room was quite large and bright. The bookcase, which was made of old but expensive material that would cover two of the high walls from end to end, contained mostly novels and monthly magazines. The reading table and comfortable chairs placed lengthwise in the middle of the room gave the impression that they were not used very often. The other two walls of the room, which was roughly sixty square meters in Blake's estimation, were larger than the other two paintings, with romantic-style oil paintings depicting old-fashioned ships and the sea, and a state-of-the-art TV adorned the narrower wall. The big-screen television and the comfy sofa in front of it stood out from the rest of the room.

 ***** A student-type easel nestled between the reading desk and the couch caught Simon Blake's attention. Apparently, Kyla Fisher had prepared for the lesson.

 "Normally, visual arts education begins with the knowledge of how to correctly reduce the objects we see in the real world to basic three-dimensional geometric forms and how to transfer them to a two-dimensional ground. That is, proportion – with things like proportion, composition, perspective, and pattern. But most people, including the majority of students who aspire to become professionals, find them boring. Would you like me to tell you about it?"

 Kyla Fisher was listening intently to Simon Blake. After Blake finished speaking, silence reigned for a few seconds. Simon Blake noticed that Kyla was intruding on his personal space. Kyla Fisher asked the professor,

 "Do you always have to be this serious?"

 The young woman moved her lips closer to Blake. Simon Blake could feel her breathing. At the same time, he noticed that Kyla's hand began to wander over his body. For a few seconds, he didn't know how to react. At that moment, he heard faint footsteps approaching from outside. He gently grabbed Kyla by the arms and pulled her away.

 "Teaching is serious business, Ms. Fisher. Even though I'm not a cop or a detective, investigating a murder is."

 At the same time, the door to the reading room opened. A woman in her mid-forties with long black hair, slightly overweight, and vaguely bagging under her eyes, whom Blake guessed was Tabitha Fisher, rushed in. It was obvious that she was looking for Kyla. Noticing the unexpected visitor, she paused. 

 "Who are you mister?"

 "Hi ma'am, my name is Simon Blake. I help Ms. Fisher with painting."

 The woman looked at Blake from head to toe.

 "Is that so... I was delighted. I'm Tabitha."

 "So do I. We were just done. I ask your permission to leave. By the way, I recently heard that you lost your spouse in an accident. I'm sorry for your loss. I hope you're doing well now."

 " I... Yes, I'm better. Thank you, Blake."

 " I'm glad to hear that."

 Simon Blake thought his first day at the mansion had been quite productive, as he left the mansion five minutes later with a greet to the elderly security guard, Trevis.

CHAPTER 22

 Jimmy Perkins looked at his watch.

 7:07 p.m...

 He thought that the third floor should now be completely empty. He put his hand in his pocket. He released the device he produced by modifying an old-style mobile phone produced in the early 2000s. A number of numbers entered in a row. He smiled to himself when he received the notification that the transaction had been confirmed. According to the central security system's daily records, Perkins entered the building in the morning and "left" by 7:08 p.m.

 He stepped out of the toilet of the third floor, where he spent the last half hour patiently so as not to be conspicuous. After taking a look around, he made his way to Dr. Köhler's laboratory.

 Getting inside the lab wasn't hard for Perkins. He quietly closed the door. He didn't turn on the lights. He would make do with the light of his cell phone.

 When the door opened, Perkins was confronted by high-tech devices such as genetic analysis equipment, PCR machines, DNA sequencing machines, electrophoresis equipment, and other high-tech devices required for genetic analysis. Apart from this, there was another room inside the laboratory reserved for computer stations and biosafety protocols.

 Jimmy Perkins came in. Out of a large number of computers, he found the one reserved for the personal use of Dr. Aldric Köhler.

 Wishing it wouldn't take too long, he got to work.

CHAPTER 23

 As the clock approached midnight, Dr. Aldric Köhler noticed that his cell phone was ringing.

 It was the caller again.

 He picked up the phone.

 "Blake and Pavlov will enlist the help of a young friend to research the workplace. I think the guy is in his thirties. But I don't know what it looks like. As I understand it, he is some kind of hacker or something like that. Be careful."*

 It was impossible to tell what Köhler was feeling from his dull gaze.

 "Is there anything else I should be aware of?"

 "Not for now."

 "Okay. Don't worry about that. You can rest assured that I will do what is necessary."

 "Nice. Good-bye."

 The other party hung up. That's what Köhler did. He grinned vaguely as he put his phone in his pocket.

CHAPTER 24

 Simon Blake's pensive gaze caught on the blue crane flying over the river. The bird began to make wide circles, calmly flying. Then, suddenly, he accelerated and started to dive. When he took off again, he was holding a small water snake in his beak.

 Blake took a sip of his coffee. He looked at the chess set in front of him. He read the analysis written about the location from the book by the international master Jeremy Silman.

 IM Silman wrote about the play Alekhine-Junge, Warsaw 1942:

 'Does white have a combination?'

 Instead of the question, the question 'Are there any of the combination conditions in the position?' should be asked. The first element that catches the eye is that the black king is vulnerable to attack...

 The analysis and commentary went on and on. But Blake's mind wandered. He turned the book over and left it next to the chess set. He took another sip of his coffee. Simon Blake thought about how he felt about Kyla Fisher. When you feel that something is wrong with someone when you can't rationalize them, you shouldn't belittle it or indulge in toxic optimism.

 The young woman may have been a little irresponsible or reckless, or she might not have known her limits, like many young people whose family was financially well-off. But would that make him a bad person, or even more, a murderer? Moreover, when he is the one who insists on an investigation into an incident that no one suspects of murder and that appears in the records as an accident?

 And what was that spontaneous combustion thing? Even without a murder involved, the situation was interesting enough. Similar ones have been encountered before. Solutions were proposed. It was the subject of literature and magazines. But no one had been able to explain this phenomenon convincingly. While it doesn't even seem possible to provide a scientific explanation of what the phenomenon is, is it really possible for someone to take it and turn it into a murder weapon? He hoped to shed light on this part of the work thanks to Perkins' finding.

 Developments with Ray Fisher's company didn't seem natural to Blake either. No member of the family seemed to be related to Fisher's company, which had an extremely high financial value.

 A young man who is focused on pursuing an academic career and seems completely uninterested in his father's affairs, a young woman who is willing to hand over her father's company for a reasonable price, saying that she is not inclined to these jobs, a widow who is allegedly after money and therefore killed her husband, but who does not seem to care about what is happening.

 It would be naïve to interpret this situation as the fact that all three family members are well-intentioned people who do not care about the blessings of the world.

 Blake's logic and intuition had different things to say about Kyla Fisher. He'd been in situations like this before, and almost without exception his intuition was right. More precisely, when his intuition and logic clashed in his head, it was later revealed that the reason for this was that he did not have enough data on the subject.

 He sipped his coffee. It had cooled down. He soured his face. He looked at the chessboard. He couldn't care what a tactical genius Alekhine was when his brain felt like he was split in two.

 He thought about what he had found in Dorian Fisher's room the day before. It was definitely interesting. He moved his hand to his cell phone. The phone was picked up the second time it rang.

 "Hi Boris, how are you? Yes, let's meet in person when it's convenient, but there's one thing I want you to research first. It can be significant..." 

CHAPTER 25

 Perkins' mission consisted of several stages. First, he would try to crack the password of Köhler's personal computer in order to gain access to data or anything that could constitute evidence of illegal transactions that may have been stored on his computer, save important information he could access, and detect security vulnerabilities in order to remotely infiltrate the system if necessary. In this way, he would be able to "session hijack" without having to come to the biotech company in person. In addition, he would observe the surroundings and try to collect physical evidence or record the conversations of the people involved.

 Using routine reconnaissance protocols such as vulnerability scanner and network enumeration, he tried to gain insight into the vulnerabilities of Köhler's computer and the other computers it was connected to. Then it came to the crux of the matter. With L0phtCrack, he tried to crack the passwords and passwords of the system in front of him using a large number of algorithms.

 After struggling for a long time, a large number of folders appeared on the screen. He glanced at them as quickly and carefully as he could.

 Nothing out of the ordinary stood out. Everything was arranged quite systematically and professionally.

 Perkins looked at his watch. It was quite late, but he couldn't let it go at this stage. He persistently continued to study the files. He did this until midnight.

 As he was about to give up, a headline caught his attention. Opened the content. What he saw almost caused him to have a heart attack.

CHAPTER 26

 Boris Pavlov had spent the last two days intensively researching Ray Fisher's company and work history, as well as Dr. Köhler and Asklepios & Company.

 What they found was no small thing. But it wasn't as interesting as what Blake was telling me over the phone. What he was worried about was that he was unlikely to be able to find anything based on official records.

 He thought for a while. Then he typed something on the keyboard of his computer. When he didn't get results, he tried different phrases and different search engines using similar keywords.

 It didn't take long for what he was looking for to pop up on his computer's monitor.

 He carefully examined what he found...

CHAPTER 27

 Simon Blake looked at Boris Pavlov as if to say, "Again?" Pavlov left his lighter on the table. He took another deep breath from the cigarette he lit. He looked intently once more at the photograph he was holding in his hand.

 "It's really interesting. What I'm trying to say is that you come across something like this the first time you enter the house, and in terms of the picture that the photograph reveals..."

 "Maybe it's a little too interesting."

 "Do you think the photograph was deliberately left in Dorian Fisher's room?"

 "Actually, I'm not sure what I think about it, Boris. I was just thinking out loud. But it was as surprising to me as the content itself that I could find such a concrete clue so easily. Anyway, let's put that part of the business aside for now. What did you find?"

 The conversation between the two friends took place at Blake's house in the evening of the day after the phone call. The topic of conversation was an old photograph that Simon Blake found in the closet in Dorian Fisher's room.

 In the photo, Ray Fisher's ex-wife Bridget Fisher, who died years ago, and Rusty Richards, the son of Ray Fisher's former partner Marc Richards, who is now a candidate for boss, were in the same frame. Rusty Richards, in the photo, was still old enough to be considered a child.

 Boris continued, answering his friend.

 "Obviously, Bridget Fisher and Marc Richards were in a relationship for a while." 

 "In this case, the allegations that Marc Richards was murdered by Ray Fisher are fleshed out."

 Boris Pavlov looked at Blake as if he was not quite convinced.

 "I don't know, Simon. Marc Richards died in 2007. Bridget and Richards' relationship took place in the 80s. Ray Fisher and Bridget married in 1985. As it turned out, Bridget, who was a young girl at the time, was attracted to two close friends, Marc and Ray, at first she thought she was in love with Marc Richards, but after a while she decided to marry Ray Fisher. While this has damaged Ray and Marc's friendship, it's hard to think of it as the reason for a murder years later."

 Blake picked up the photo, turned it to his friend, and pointed his finger at young Rusty and said,

 "Don't you think you're missing something?"

 Pavlov lightly patted his forehead with his left palm, as if to say, "how stupid I am." At the same time, he noticed that his phone was ringing. The caller was Jimmy Perkins.

 "Hi, big man. How is life going? I need to see you and your charismatic friend as soon as possible. I've caught things that will make your lips drop."

 Pavlov noticed from Perkins' tone that he was excited and perhaps a little worried. He tried to suppress it by exaggerating his unique style.

 "Where are you, Jimmy? Well, we're coming right in..."

CHAPTER 28

 After a journey of a little over an hour, Blake and Pavlov were at Jimmy Perkins' house.

 After briefly summarizing his day at Asklepios & Company, Perkins got to the point without further ado. The young man came home at three o'clock in the morning, and after sleeping for a few hours, he spent the whole day going through the files he had found. He placed a flash drive on his computer, opened the top one out of a large number of folders. He motioned for Blake and Pavlov to look at the screen.

 "Look at this." 

 Blake and Pavlov bent down and began to carefully read what was written on the page that opened on the monitor.

 Reports on the production processes of an experimental drug, the main component of which is adrenochrome, appeared on the screen. At first glance, there seemed nothing surprising in the report, except that there was no scientific confirmation for adrenochrome, which is the result of the oxidation of epinephrine, and the name of the chemical was involved in some unpleasant claims for a period.

 According to what was written, the temporary name of the experimental drug was determined as Renoxin. The production of the drug was not intended for the treatment of any disease. Rather, it seemed to be a study of the development of routine biological processes of the human body. Functionally, it could be compared to anabolic steroids.

 "Well, it's an interesting study, but if that's all there is to it, I couldn't understand why he was so excited. I hope you've got more, Jimmy."

 "Of course there is, the big guy. And the kind of stuff that I'm afraid will make you nauseous. But take your time. What do you think of what you've seen so far?"

 This time, it was Blake who spoke.

 "Adrenochrome is a fluid synthesized in the adrenal glands in states of excitement and fear along with adrenaline. Adrenaline was discovered in 1901 and various researches have been carried out on it since then. Adrenochrome research is relatively new, dating back to the 1950s as far as I know. While the chemical has been associated with the treatment of various diseases, it has also been emphasized that it has narcotic and hallucinogenic effects, but none of these have been scientifically proven. I am not familiar with medical studies on these chemicals because they are not my subject. In any case, the most striking aspect of the issue is not the medical or scientific aspect. Years ago, the name of this chemical – and I have a hard time even pronouncing it – was involved in rumors of child abuse. A number of horrific allegations have been made. Rumor has it that at least some of the thousands of children kidnapped around the world each year were for the supply of adrenochromes. According to various conspiracy theories, the adrenochrome obtained from the bodies of these children was used as a kind of youth elixir by famous and influential people such as political elites and movie stars. Although adrenochrome is secreted by the body of people of all ages, since its purest and most effective form is the one obtained from children, doubts were directed towards children.

 When author Hunter S. Thompson wrote his novel Fear and loathing in Las Vegas in 1972, which dealt with this subject, rumors were heated for the time. Years later, just a few years ago, the "Wayfair Scandal" erupted.

 "Wayfair is one of the largest commercial companies in the U.S., mainly selling furniture and various household goods, operating online. According to the recent allegations, they deliberately put unjustifiably high prices in the description section of some of the products they sell, and write the names of some missing children as the product names, thus trafficking children. I didn't follow what happened afterwards because I couldn't stomach it."

 When Blake finished speaking, there was silence. If this is true, is it possible for the world to be a place worth living in? Pavlov was the first to pull himself together.

 "Oh my goodness... Ghastly. I hope this is all a figment of the overdeveloped imagination of conspiracy theorists. But if it's real, could adrenochrome have something to do with our spontaneous combustion?"

 Blake didn't respond right away. Just as he was about to say something, Perkins interjected.

 "Gentlemen, I think what you will see in the rest of the report will make it easier for you to answer this question. But let me warn you again, you won't like what you see."

CHAPTER 29

 The unidentified person looked at his watch. It was four o'clock in the morning. It was pitch black outside. He even paid attention to his breathing as he listened to make sure there was no one awake in the mansion.

 Absolute silence...

 He glided silently up the stairs. It was obvious that he knew where he was going and for what purpose. When he came to the front of one of the rooms, he stopped. He paused for a few more seconds before grasping the door handle with his hand to make sure there was no one around. He quietly opened the door. He went inside and closed the door.

 The unidentified person didn't need to turn on the room light to find what he was looking for. He approached the wooden cabinet. He opened the bottom cover. Groping he found what he was looking for.

 He needed light to see the contents of his photo album. For this, he would make use of his mobile phone.

 He turned the pages quickly. When he got to the page he was looking for, he saw that one of the photo panes was empty. He grinned to himself.

CHAPTER 30

 After what he saw on the computer screen, Simon Blake had to go to great lengths to keep whatever was in his stomach from coming out.

 Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced at the screen again. In the first of the two images, which were larger in size than the others, there were the lifeless bodies of children, estimated to be between four and eight years old, on whom operations had apparently been performed. The second photo was even more terrifying. Human limbs, which again appeared to belong to children, but this time in a burned state, were on the screen.

 Blake could only stare at the screen for a few seconds. Drops of cold sweat accumulated on his forehead. He loosened the collar of his shirt with his hand. Dizziness and palpitations were added to the nausea.

 The situation of Pavlov and Perkins was no different from Blake's.

 Perkins opened the window of the room. The three men did not speak for several minutes. They tried to take deep breaths and collect themselves.

 Then Pavlov said,

 "My God, it's terrible..."

 He was able to say.

 Perkins quickly moved past the part of the report that included the visuals to the remarks section on the next page.

 "If you've come to your senses, read the explanations, gentlemen..."

 Pavlov and Blake approached the screen. They read with astonishment the important parts of the report, which was written with the utmost composure and using scientific terminology.

 One thing was certain; The authors of the report were devoid of any human emotion.

 Pavlov turned to Blake and asked, "What do you think now?"

 "The allegations about adrenochrome and child abduction are obvious. Personally, I would have preferred not to find out about it. And the murder investigation we have is inconsequential compared to this. On the other hand, there are companies with international connections and those who have authority beyond our power. If we want to get results, we need to unravel the connection to Ray Fisher's death and present the evidence in a way that leaves no one to dispute it."

 "Do you think it will be enough to give these documents to the press?"

 "Frankly, I doubt it. You?"

 Pavlov shook his head and asked, indicating that he agreed with Blake.

 "What do you think we should do now?"

 Simon Blake told his friends what was on his mind.