Nighttime, on the outskirts of an abandoned factory.
"We've prepared the zones for whatever it is you're going to do. We also moved the boxes without opening them." A man handed Larry a set of papers detailing everything that had been moved for his review.
Larry took the sheets and burned them, then asked, "What about the more technical stuff?"
"Yes, Larry, but listen carefully—this isn't black magic. What I built for you is a modular system with an SDR microtransmitter controlled via an encrypted app. The phone acts as the brain, but all the dirty work is done by hidden hardware." The man walked over to the servers connected to a dozen computers.
"And how does it tap into the signal?"
"We intercept a secondary relay frequency. We don't go straight to the main tower—that would be suicide. We use an exploit in the MPEG compression, slipping in just as the channel switches blocks. It only lasts a few seconds, but in that time, you can send your signal."
"And what if they try to track me?" Larry feared being found during his first murder, which would be broadcast to the entire world.
"The transmitter changes frequency every six seconds and bounces the signal through fake nodes before emitting. It's like trying to catch a fish in a room full of mirrors."
"Perfect… I like that. And how do I upload what I want to broadcast? Videos, text, whatever?"
"You upload it from your phone. The app encodes it in real-time and wraps it like it's a legitimate signal. I even added an emergency signal generator in case you want to make it look like a 'government emergency message' and then insert your broadcast."
"Haha, now you're getting me… How much screen time do I get?"
"It depends on the channel and their shielding. Some give you 30 seconds, others up to 2 minutes. But if you do it right… that's enough to drop a mental bomb."
"That's not enough." Larry had spent many years preparing to fulfill his revenge. His network of possibilities had grown so vast that he could start purging all the killers in his surroundings if he wanted to.
But there was something Larry wanted to do first: to get his message out to the rest of the world.
He wanted his message to be acknowledged by the serial killers he was going to kill.
"Make the time longer. I need more time."
"It won't be easy."
"Just do it."
…
The next morning, Larry entered the office and suddenly saw Jack discussing some things with a few agents.
"Boss."
Jack greeted Larry without looking up from his documents. "Did you get enough rest? You should consider going to the sessions with that forensic psychiatrist I recommended. You haven't attended a single one."
"I'm not interested."
"We'll talk about it later."
Larry frowned slightly, looking a little confused. "Any news about Christopher?"
"Well, Markus's team is making good progress… We have a lot from the interrogation with William, so we'll be much closer to solving this once they finish with him."
Larry was quite surprised; he had thought the interrogation with William would be much more complex than it seemed. Nelson, on the other hand, had volunteered to give statements, as if he didn't care about being involved in the investigation.
"As for Christopher, we got news last night after you left. He contacted central and mentioned he was going to pause his route for a while because he needed to see a doctor."
Jack paused and said, "We started looking for him seriously after realizing we couldn't reach him, but he showed up shortly after at a nearby hospital."
"They were giving him an injection, and he was groggy and feverish, as if he had just woken up. After checking the medical records, they were told he had been admitted for acute pneumonia."
"He's on his way now—he was transferred to the nearest hospital for treatment."
Hearing this, Larry asked, "Anything new on Nelson?"
"On the other hand, Nelson's room was searched on the cargo ship, and his toothbrush and wooden comb were first sent to the southeast. The results are probably already available."
Max ran in with a bunch of reports in hand and gave them to Larry.
Larry didn't look at him but placed the report on the table and asked, "If everything's going so well, why do you look so distressed?"
"I've been thinking about what you told me yesterday, and it's been bothering me. You're not a rookie who makes mistakes on things like this, so I gave it serious thought." Jack had brought Larry in because he was a bloodhound, and if he didn't let him do his job, it would be a grave mistake.
"He's being manipulated, isn't he?" Larry already suspected that Williams was being used by a mastermind.
This result didn't surprise him—he knew the whole thing was orchestrated by one person.
"But it doesn't look fake, does it?"
Jack nodded and said, "Yes! Maybe you're right. But how do we explain the DNA left on Alicia's ear? How do we explain the knife in the car and the blood on it?"
"Did he deny all the accusations?"
"As always, he had no idea and couldn't give a reasonable explanation. He said July 15th. After his breakup with Alicia, he never saw her again. This was also confirmed by his coworkers, who said Williams was very sad for a few days in mid-July."
"He kept complaining about his bad luck and didn't even know he was being cheated on. To cheer him up, his colleagues took him out for drinks. One of his friends got his car scratched."
Larry was relieved he wasn't the only one finding excuses in the case. "We have the DNA, but we didn't measure the bite marks—maybe we should start there."