From the Ship of Fools to Earl of Wugang

The fact that there were no "No Smoking" signs in the Bayview Police Department headquarters building was the first thing Douglas found upon arriving in Bayview.

The colleagues in this building were clearly more tolerant of tobacco; there was even a glass ashtray in the break room next to the Special Cases Division on the second floor. Although the ash at the bottom showed that it was rarely used, its presence was, in the inspector's eyes, a sign of a certain level of civilization.

Douglas got a temporary office here, and now his desk is piled higher and higher with documents.

Surveillance, interviews, archives, simulations... most of it was useless.

For many days, the inspector's intelligence was limited to the old newspaper vendor's confession given by Chief Wentworth.

Fortunately, he could utilize some civilian staff from the local police department to handle those trivial investigation tasks.

After being turned away by Holloway, Douglas returned to the police station and, as an inspector, requested several officers from the local police department to begin searching for clues using brute force methods.

Surveillance footage from the area around the Bayview City bus terminal is sufficient to confirm that the person left the terminal and headed towards the main street.

But the results of checking hotel registrations were disheartening. After several days, not a single hotel receptionist recognized Lane Hall's face.

He continued to assign people to investigate the areas around tailor shops, secondhand stores, and public bathhouses, while he himself also wandered around Bayview every day, scrutinizing every young person who passed by with the eyes of an inspector.

He even went to several gun shops, but after checking the names and ID numbers on the register one by one, he found nothing suspicious.

But the city was far too large for an "invisible man," and things came to a suffocating standstill.

The turning point happened in the break room one afternoon.

Douglas was enjoying his pipe with black tea and a magazine, taking in his usual moment of relaxation.

He was running low on his own tobacco, and the tobacco from Bayview was of average quality, but what was it again? Better than nothing.

Just as he was happily turning to a new page in the magazine, the door to the break room was pushed open, and a police officer in his forties in a blue uniform walked in.

Douglas recognized the colleague in charge of firearms and document registration. What was his last name again... Morrison? Moraes?

"Inspector Douglas, I heard you're looking for someone?" The other man poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down next to him.

"Not bad, I've been looking for it for about a week," Douglas replied nonchalantly. "What's wrong?"

Morrison—Douglas was now certain—pulled a photocopy from his pocket and pushed it in front of the inspector.

"When I was organizing the copies of the gun purchase registrations submitted by the gun shops a couple of days ago, there was a face that looked familiar to me."

He pointed to the photo: "Come meet this Evan Black. He bought a Veridia M10 revolver last week at an 'Old Hunter' gun shop on the east side of town."

Douglas glanced down at the photocopy with little expectation.

Even though the photocopy was slightly distorted, and even though Evan Black was dressed in a respectable suit and had his hair neatly combed, looking completely different from the photo provided by the Sisters of Silence, Douglas still recognized the face at a glance.

He put down his pipe, picked up the photocopy, and examined it closely: "This face... at the very least, he should have some connection to my suspect."

Morrison reached for the cookie jar: "But this person's identification information is local, from Tandon State, Veridiac Federation, not the fugitive you're looking for."

Watching the police officer across from him crunching on a cookie, the inspector patted the paper in his hand.

"When all other fruits are unavailable, hawthorn berries are also popular."

Back in his temporary office, Douglas immediately pulled up Evan Black's file photo and compared it with Lane Hall's.

Now he was certain that the person in both photos was the same person, and Evan Black's missing person record was strong supporting evidence.

Douglas had seen this kind of thing many times. To escape debts, hide from enemies, or simply to leave no trace, some people would acquire a fake identity.

They might slightly alter their hairstyle, clothing, or expression, but rarely their face. This is especially true when the fake identity is created to meet their real-world needs, such as purchasing guns.

"Damn Holloway, I knew something was fishy."

The inspector immediately instructed his seconded officers to use the name "Evan Black" to check the check-in records of all hotels in Bayview City over the past week.

The next day, they indeed found Mr. Blake's trail; the receptionist at a mid-range hotel in the old town remembered the name.

After searching nearby surveillance footage, the inspector obtained the next lead—the license plate number of the taxi Mr. Blake was last seen taking when he left.

Following the trail, Douglas contacted the staff at Gulfstream Central Station and retrieved the ticket records.

The ticketing system showed that "Evan Black" had purchased a sleeper ticket to Flamingo, a fact confirmed by station exit surveillance cameras.

The chain of clues is now complete. Douglas can call Victor to report these findings and then try to pass the task on to someone else.

After all, he was almost out of tobacco.

The call connected quickly, and Douglas swiftly reported the entire investigation process, concluding, "This person clearly came prepared. He should be in Flamingo City now. I suggest immediately notifying investigators near Flamingo City to get involved."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone. Douglas could hear the sound of a lighter lighting a cigarette, which made him feel a little better.

"Well done, Douglas." Victor's voice didn't sound as satisfied as Douglas had expected. "However, I have one more request."

Douglas's heart skipped a beat: "What request, supervisor?"

"Go to Flamingo and look for this person."

Douglas gritted his teeth: "What do you want me to do, bring them back? That doesn't seem necessary..."

"As a senior investigator for the Ninth Bureau, you have sufficient authority and experience to handle this type of situation. Besides, I'm not familiar with Flamingo City. Now that you've found a lead, you should see it through to the end."

"Understood, supervisor," Douglas gritted out. "I'll head to Flamingo as soon as possible."

"Very good. Be careful on the road and keep me updated." Viktor said and hung up the phone.

Douglas put the phone back on its stand and stared at the silent machine.

After about ten minutes of mental preparation, he called and booked a train ticket, then returned to his apartment to start packing.

His travel bag was still the same as before, weathered and smelling faintly musty.

After packing his things, he lit his pipe again.

Blue-gray smoke rose in the cramped apartment, blurring the darkening sky outside the window.

Is "Evan Black" really Lane Hall? If so, why does he have such a clear and organized plan of action? What is he planning to do in Flamingo City?

The further the investigation goes, the less it resembles a simple prison break by a mentally ill person.

Douglas exhaled a puff of smoke, as if the smoke in front of him were a mirror in which he could see his tired face.

Forget it, why think about these things?

He stood up, picked up his travel bag, and walked out of the apartment.

As evening fell in Gulfstream, the sky was a sickly orange-red. He had to catch that damned night train.

Flamingo, hopefully the tobacco there is acceptable.

Muttering curses to himself, Inspector Harry Douglas boarded the night train to a northern city to continue his vacation.