"Excuse me?" Catalina snorted at a guy in college uniform that stood before them. One of his hands was clasped at the only strap of his knapsack that hung over his right shoulder. The stranger looked a little bit familiar to Catalina but she just couldn't pinpoint. A faint, pleasant smell of men's perfume hovered in the air around him. His hair was as dark as his monotonic eyes that compromised his harsher and fiercer features. He's tall and has a well-built body figure. There were even telltale signs of muscles hidden under his white uniform. He's quite the kind whom every woman would meet before finding the right one, like the guy who never had trouble finding a date, an actual carbon copy of Francisco Lachowski, a face every woman would die for.
"Are these drugs?" Mr. Malthus suddenly exclaimed, his eyes darted at the white powders inside pieces of transparent plastics that the guy had put at the counter. "Oh, boy," he uttered in surprise. "We are not interested. And you can't just sell some drugs here like we're in some corner of a club!—And you know what? I'm a lawyer!" he added, half-chuckling.
"I know." The guy replied in a monotone voice that matched his blank gaze. "I'm not selling drugs, I'm selling you evidence." He added.
Catalina crossed her arms and stared at the guy, half annoyed. "Have you lost your mind somewhere in your school? Why don't you get your ass back there, find your brain, and get the hell out of our sight?"
But Catalina's eyes squinted in dissatisfaction when the guy didn't even blink at her; instead he pulled out the plastic at the counter. When he drifted his silent, inexpressive eyes to Catalina, as if he was looking at something so boring and uninteresting, Catalina couldn't help but narrowed her eyes at him.
"Weren't you looking for something that could save your grandfather?" The guy asked. "This is the same drugs that the police have found at your grandfather's vault." He raised the pieces of plastics containing powdered drugs in front of Catalina.
With that, the guy caught their attention.
Mr. Malthus settled on his stool and cleared his throat. "Where did you get that?" He asked, half amused. He remembered him. He was that guy sitting at the other end of the counter earlier when he entered the bistro. —He must've been listening to us, Mr. Malthus thought.
The guy slightly turned his head to look at the attorney. "I happened to snatch one from the police." He casually said.
Mr. Malthus startled, blinking. "What? Are you insane?" he exclaimed.
"Look, it doesn't matter. Just a tiny amount and it's not like I'm using this illegally, just doing something—serviceable, if you could put it that way." The guy barely arched his shoulders.
"Really? What do you do then?" Mr. Malthus looked incredulous.
"I sell evidences for people like you. I pull some things that the police normally missed outside their standpoint."
"So you're like playing some kind of a detective game, is that right, boy?" Mr. Malthus grinned, "Like solving crime scenes, hunting criminals and fugitives, and meting out justice, something like that?—so, what's with the get up?" He flashed him a half-mocking stare from head to toe. "To me, you looked like a university student who just skipped his classes because he's bored and has nothing useful to do."
"I didn't skip class and I don't do detective things like that. Too much effort, too exhausting. I just, you know, happen to find things that turned out reliable evidences, so I started selling it out to people who, of course need it." The guy explained, sounding so casual about it.
"You just happened to find out things—just like how you happened to snatch those drugs from the police, yeah?" Mr. Malthus said sarcastically. "What's your name, anyway?"
"Ash Schiller."
"Is that your real name?" He snapped.
"Here's my school ID. But you know what—if you're not interested to what I'm about to say, I can just head out right now. I can sell information to other people." Ash pointed his thumb to the direction of the door.
"Good idea. We can't trust an amateur." Catalina blurted.
"Wait." Mr. Malthus glanced once to Catalina. "No, wait. Let us hear what you got—ahm, Ash." He slightly raised his right hand as he tried to stop Ash.
"You will seriously waste your time to some obvious load of crap?" Catalina immediately complained.
"You say that again after you hear what I'll say." It was Ash who replied to her. He stared at Catalina for about two seconds and said, "You look exasperated, those dark circles under your eyes tell me you haven't gotten much sleep."
One moment Catalina was silent.
"You'll hear this, if you want to look like her again." Ash glanced over his shoulder to look out over the window pane glass where the darkness already prevailed and lights on the street and other buildings were already alive.
Catalina followed his gaze; he was actually looking at the large building just across the street, where a gigantic tarpaulin of an astonishing woman hung at the top. Her piercing emerald eyes were almost as bright as the street lights, if only she could blink, her lashes could trigger the whole building to collapse. Her ivory skin glistened at the dark, her mesmerizing lips, painted in brilliant red, were like the world's luxury, and her rich, brown hair, as if poured by a jar of pine honey, gave out a serene glow in the evening lights.
"Is that how you negotiate? Making fun of me?" Catalina's cold, scrutinizing voice seeped the air between them.
Ash didn't answer, instead he pulled one of the stools beside Catalina and sat nonchalantly in front of them.
"C'mon, Catalina. Nothing will lose if we'll just listen." Urged Mr. Malthus.
"Well, there is, Mr. Malthus. Time, we'll be wasting our bloody time." Catalina argued.
"Aren't you desperate?" Mr. Malthus hissed. "Just hear this will yah?"
Catalina narrowed her eyes, and then let out a disapproving sigh as she silenced herself.
"So," Mr. Malthus attention returned to Ash, signaling him to begin whatever he has anything up his sleeves.
"This drug is totally manmade." Ash started, showing them the plastics of drugs. "Like those synthetic drugs that aims to mimic existing illicit drugs, also known as new 'psychoactive substance'. Since there are no quality control checks on synthetic drugs, it is not always known what substances they contain. But this one is on another level," Ash tossed the plastics at his palm. "The contents, the chemicals are all manmade. They mimic a natural drug so precise that when they run a test, the outcome would be like that of a common drug, like cannabis or cocaine. The police would then no need to perform further research on this."
Mr. Malthus was confused. "How on earth do you even know that? You're not making up things, are you?"
"I did my homework. I researched on these drugs. And I found one substance, one with a very, very high dosage, almost impossible. That if a person use it, even if it's just his first time, his result in a drug test will turned out like he's using it for several months already."
Catalina looked skeptical, yet, she stayed quiet, one finger on her lips as she observed Ash with unnerving thoroughness. Ash eyes were as blank as a clean sheet, therefore it was hard for her to tell whether he's lying or not.
"H-How can you perform a research on that? I mean—why? Why would you research a drug that the police find as a common predicament?" Mr. Malthus looked flustered.
"I know you won't easily gonna trust me, but all I'm about to tell you were nothing but the truth and were all the results of my digging." Ash opened his knapsack and pulled out three pieces of printed photos. He handed it to Mr. Malthus.
Mr. Malthus slowly reached for it, looking deeply puzzled as he scanned the photos.
"Those three persons are Japanese. That man is Eiji Kobayashi." Ash pointed out the first photo of a man wearing dark, black suit, has cold, squinted eyes, and a scraggy graying beard climbed his face; he could be on his 60's. "He was a professor at my university. While that man is Daichi Nakamura," He pointed for the second one, much younger than the first man, could be on his middle 40's, "He inherited his father's direct stake in Western Medallion Casino two years ago. And this woman is Amida Akiyama, a former doctor at Pinevale General Hospital."
Mr. Malthus creased his brows, becoming more and more perplexed. "Why are you showing these to us?"
"Those people were caught in possession of illegal drugs." Ash replied. "Drugs similar to what the police have found from her grandfather. As you can see, I've got four pieces of plastics. This one I got from Daichi Nakamura's case, this one from Kobayashi, this was from the Doctor, and this one was from your grandfather's case. They faced minor crimes compared to your grandfather's murder case, though." Ash reached the photo of Daichi Nakamura. "He was the first of the three to get arrested. The drugs were discovered at his private office at Western Medallion Casino. He claimed that it wasn't his and he wasn't using drugs but the drug tests proved that he was lying. Eiji Kobayashi was the next one after a month, he got arrested right inside the University, in the middle of his class and he seek to defend himself, much more like Nakamura. He may not have been a professor of mine but everybody knows how professional and devoted he was to his profession. Nobody had ever seen him entered the campus looking damned or wasted. I decided to dig, I started it with the other professors I could possibly have—indeed the slightest case of being his rival, then the students, then his friends from outside, but unfortunately I didn't get anything, so I stopped until another month passed, Dr. Akiyama was arrested with the same case at Pinevale. I found out within a week of her arrest that Professor Kobayashi was sick while he was still inside the jail. Prisoners' medical services said he has a history of PTSD, which is why he has developed Dissociative Disorder. Disconnected from the continuity of his thoughts and memories, he does not even know his own identity. People with PTSD tend to develop this kind of mental disorder and when you're a drug addict, being in a dissociative state is also a common symptom. But, since it occured after a month of being inside the jail, they thought it was due to his PTSD and not induced by his addiction. Nakamura had the same illness for almost a month at the time and he was already in the worst shape. And when Dr. Akiyama developed the same illness too after a month of her arrest, that was my cue to suspect something wrong was going on. I began to dig again, this time I started with the drugs, I studied it for three long weeks until I got to confirm something wasn't really right."
"You said you don't do detective things." Mr. Malthus commented.
"I don't—just this one—I got a little—curious." Ash replied. "I used to always get some evidences for petty crimes and sell it to others. It was some sort of a help—you know—a help with a price. But I got a little hung up on this one."
"Then what about the drugs? What did you find?"
Ash reached for his pocket, "This," at his palm was a small, dark gray box. He opened it and carefully took out the tiny glass tube container inside, secured in a black foam pad. Inside the tube was a bitsy amount of turquoise blue powder. "I honestly believed at first it was just some common illegal drugs. Like I've said, it took me three weeks until I noticed it, and the drugs contained only one substance that was concealed from all the other stimulants. The one I mentioned earlier, one with a very, very high dose, that in one try, it's as though you've ingested so much of it already." Ash lifted the glass tube, holding it between his two fingers as he stared at it thoroughly.
"How the hell did you manage to get that thing out of that drugs?" Mr. Malthus asked disbelievingly, his eyes fixed intently at the tube.
Ash slowly put the tube back to its box. "I just did." He answered with a casual shrug.
Mr. Malthus couldn't help to notice how this guy always sounded shallow but a bit cryptic, like he just wants you to stay put on the shore, not wanting you to dive deeper into his ocean.
"Since this is a manmade substance, only the person who developed this knows what it's called." Ash continued. "This is the very single substance on the drugs that has an effect to a person, the rest were just pure imitation of the natural elements and compounds present in illegal drugs."
"So, they created an artificial drug?" Mr. Malthus asked.
Ash nodded.
"For what? What are the effects of those drugs then?"
"Nothing," Ash answered quietly.
Catalina scoffed at that. "Are you playing a game with us?" She finally asked.
"I'm not. But someone else does." Ash found Catalina's eyes. "That's the odd thing; it doesn't do anything detrimental to a person unless you have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder . If someone with PTSD consumes this drug, that person will develop a dissociative disorder after approximately a month, triggered only by that drug, due to this single substance." He extended his palm to show the box.
"Moreover, this drug just optimizes a person's effect dosages, obtaining a falsified outcome in a drug test . This simply does not give any common effects of illegal drugs such as euphoria, agitation or even drowsiness. In short, its not harmful, unless you have PTSD." Mr. Malthus tried to grasp everything. "That was why Mr. Haytham's result in a drug test came out like that when he wasn't even showing any signs of addiction or symptoms of using drugs."
Catalina and Mr. Malthus looked at each other.
"All I can say is that, whoever made this thing, they're not small-fries. It should be a huge kind of organization, capable of making something like this." Ash said.
"But, that's weird. These people," Mr. Malthus glanced at the photos. "Why are they involved in these drugs?"
"The objective isn't that much clear for me, or what they're trying to aim, until I heard about your grandfather's case." Ash gave Catalina a stare. "I thought at first it was some kind of experiment. Foolish scientists, performing random experiments, with an objective targets. These three persons, they all have PTSD, it can't be a mere coincidence, but—"
"But my grandfather doesn't have one." Catalina interrupted, this time looking more attentive and curious.
Ash slightly nodded.
"So this might be some kind of a grudge or a much bigger enemy you can think of." Mr. Malthus added.
"I don't know the connections with them, but there's a foul possibility that there is." Ash said. "Someone framed your grandfather and to make it looked like he was completely capable of doing it, they used the drugs. Just like these three people, someone must have intentionally put the drugs inside their body, without them knowing."
"But what about the murder? How could it be framed? There was a witness. After all, it's the victim's mother—I—I can't imagine what she's feeling or what's she's going through right now. She had seen her son murdered in front of her, it was worst than seeing her own death." Catalina said.
"That's —for you now to find out." Ash shrugged, "I only offered you what I know, just a mere piece of a puzzle." He handed her the small box containing the tube. "Here, you can run a test for it—for confirmation. But, it's not yet enough evidence, you know."
"You know what, there's something really bothering me." Mr. Malthus mumbled as he stared at the photos, bemused. "They're Japanese, right?" He asked. "But why do they have green eyes? Is that natural?"
"It is," Ash replied, pulling out one of the photos. "It's rare, yeah. As I've known, Professor Kobayashi's parents have dark brown eyes but sometimes it occurs because of gene mutation from their ancestors who carried a particular eye color."
"Wasn't there any connection for this? All three of them are Japanese—with the same rare, green natural eye color."
"I thought so too, I don't think it's just another coincidence. But you can't tell the connections unless you solve first the puzzle."
"Thank God, my grandfather has golden brown." Catalina said, with a hint of sarcasm in her voice.
Mr. Malthus uttered a long breath and leaned back in the counter. No one speak for a while. After being immersed to all that they have heard, the silence between them felt overwhelming.
It's as if a key have been fallen down to start opening the first door on top of everything else.—This is the first mistake, Mr. Malthus thought—indeed an inexplicable trace that will somehow lead to whoever is behind this.
Ash suddenly stood up, wrapped a hand at the strap of his knapsack, and put something on the counter near Catalina. "It's my bank account. When you confirmed everything I've said, you're free to deposit the payment." He gave a quick glanced to Mr. Malthus before he turned his back to them and went out of Late Halberd.
Catalina stared at the piece of paper on the counter while Mr. Malthus was on deep thoughts.
"You know what," He leaned his arms at the counter as he looked at Catalina. "We might need that guy."
"What if this is some kind of bait?" Catalina asked anxiously as she crossed her arms to think.
"We need to get some drugs from the police, and then this," Mr. Malthus lifted the small box that Ash gave—sold to them. "Everything needs a confirmation, you know, though it sounded completely true."
"I want a background check for that guy."
"Hell, yeah. I don't believe he's just a student. He even uttered out his name easily to me." Mr. Malthus chuckled. "This kind of work is really dangerous, how can he put up those bravados and wander around selling evidences like he's just selling cigarettes? Does he normally walk on the streets with drugs on his pockets?"
Moments later, Catalina grabbed her phone inside her bag. Mr. Malthus stared at her as she dialed on her phone.
"It's me." Catalina said to the other line. "I want you to run a background check for someone—yeah. I want everything about this person. Everything, you understand?" Catalina paused for a second, "Ash Schiller."