Getting close to Kurt Hansen was no simple task.
The man was cautious and alert by nature. Even those whose identities were already known had to endure layers of tests and probes. Approaching him and stealing his dog tag would be no easier than dancing on the edge of a blade.
"There are two ways to infiltrate. One is to avoid all people and surveillance, calmly approach Kurt Hansen, and leisurely take his dog tag. The other is to disguise yourself with a believable identity, get close to Hansen without arousing suspicion, and then steal the dog tag when he's not paying attention. Between the two, I personally prefer the second."
Karl was in the basement of the Moth Bar—a former secret safehouse of the FIA—going over the detailed plan with Lied.
Settling on the plan wasn't difficult.
This time, they had no support from the New United States—just the two of them. Though they were short-handed, discussions went quickly: if one of them gave the nod, the matter was decided.
"Let's go with your suggestion. Disguising ourselves will be easier than sneaking in unseen," Karl agreed.
Lied nodded, accepting Karl's infiltration proposal.
This wasn't his usual approach, but with the latest face-modification chip developed by Militech, the success rate had increased dramatically. It had become the top choice.
"If the plan is settled, then… what identity should we use?" Karl asked. "There aren't many identities that could get close to Hansen. Even brushing shoulders with him might get you pinned down by dozens of pairs of eyes from the Barghest dogs. Dogtown isn't my turf—I don't know who can approach him. That's on you."
Silence.
Karl's words were met with silence—from Lied.
It made Karl's eyelid twitch. He had a bad feeling.
"Wait a second… Mr. Lied, this silence of yours isn't because… you don't have any identities that can get close to Hansen, is it?"
Lied didn't answer directly. Instead, he said in a roundabout way, "I barely made it out alive back then. I've spent years running deep-cover ops. Except when absolutely necessary, I've been operating solo in Night City."
In other words, most of his past missions were carried out alone. He received little help from the New United States.
Under such circumstances, just maintaining contact and gathering intel was already a feat. There was no time or bandwidth to build a proper network of contacts.
So you're not well connected either, huh?
Karl suddenly realized why everything he said had been taken as gospel—Lied, the top-tier agent, never raised objections. He had assumed Lied had a solid plan, everything under control.
Turns out, it really was just the two of them running the whole show.
Seriously now, Rosalind Myers… you really believe that much in me and Lied? All those messages saying "I trust you"—turns out you actually meant it?
Karl had a headache.
He was sure someone like President Rosalind Myers must have backup plans and contingencies. But he was equally sure that Plan A—the one with the highest chance of success—relied entirely on him and Lied.
Was this some kind of braindance blockbuster?
An elite agent and a merc heading into a warlord's territory to retrieve documents that could endanger the President—just the two of them?
A high-octane spy action flick, huh?
Karl thought of contacting Rosalind Myers.
"Seems like folks in Washington are really keeping tabs on her. The President's clearly not very popular—this is what, the third time the opposition's mounted resistance?"
But then again, Karl thought, that's the good old American two-party system for you—digging holes for each other, laughing at the other's misfortune, not helping, and even giving a shove when they can.
Radical policies always draw backlash from conservatives, and when you mix in party rivalries… yeah, it's a miracle there hasn't been a Qin Shi assassination attempt yet.
Still, Karl brushed those presidential worries aside.
He had enough headaches of his own.
"An identity… an identity…"
For the moment, Karl genuinely couldn't think of a way to get close to Kurt Hansen.
Hansen might be the so-called "King of Dogtown," but his weapons trade and private army were comparable to full-fledged military corporations. His turf was so strategically important that even Arasaka and Militech had to think twice before making a move. Anyone who could sit and talk with him as an equal would have to be at least Night City Council-level.
Night City Council…
He couldn't just send Hansen a message claiming to be Lucius Rhyne, the dead (or not-so-dead) ex-mayor of Night City, proposing a grand plan and requesting a meeting, right?
After some thought, Karl made a call.
When it came to Dogtown matters, there was really only one guy to turn to—Mr. Hands.
"Oh look, my favorite merc's calling," came Hands's signature drawl through the receiver.
"I need a favor, Mr. Hands."
"Of course you do. I mean, if there weren't a thorny problem that needed ol' Hands, you wouldn't be calling, would you? Only when you've exhausted your long, long contact list do you dig me up. So go on—what's the trouble this time?"
They'd been working together for a while now, and Hands knew Karl well enough. He didn't mind helping out—especially since every job KK took on ended up making Hands good money. The recent gig on the Voodoo Boys' turf in Pacifica had even opened a line to the NCPD.
Mercs like KK—capable and profitable—were rare. Hands wasn't about to let that relationship go cold.
Ignoring Hands's teasing, Karl cut straight to the point:
"I want you to set me up with a temporary identity. One that'll get me into a party hosted by Kurt Hansen, lets me mingle with the guests, doesn't attract attention, and won't be traced right away."
"An identity that gets you into a Hansen party and doesn't raise any red flags…"
Hands repeated the request, mulled it over, then asked:
"Is Kurt Hansen going to die?"
"No."
"In that case, give me a day. I'll have it ready for you this time tomorrow."
Hands didn't ask what Karl was planning. As long as he knew Hansen wasn't going to end up dead, that was enough.
Because honestly—
the less you know about what KK's up to, the longer you're likely to live.
Mr. Hands had heard things.
Like that rumor about Konpeki Plaza…
That Karl killed Saburo Arasaka.
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🔥🦾 CYBERPUNK: THE RELENTLESS 🦾🔥
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