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Chapter 3: The Phantom

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The investigator, being even an employee of such an important institution, tried to be as polite as possible with the lady who applied to their department, because she, first of all, was referred to them by the foreign intelligence service, and secondly, was the wife of the professor – the unspoken genius of the secret project "DUBLFEIS".


– Good afternoon, Veniamin Moiseyevich. I would like to know what became with that citizen who was arrested in the case of blackmailing me?

The investigator, after a few seconds of silent looking around at the visitor, said:

– M didn't arrest him. If that's what you're referring to again. I apologize, as a matter of procedure, he was questioned and sent....


– And you're telling me he's out there now? – n she cut him off abruptly.


– We had no reason to detain him, – without expressing the mimicry and tone of change, replied the inspector for special cases of the investigative committee.

In response, she stared at him with fiercely bulging eyes and began to scan the investigator with her gaze ; wrinkles appeared on her face, giving it an indignant, even more furious expression. This stage of silent communication lasted for about five seconds .


– We sent him for psychiatric examination, – apparently, not waiting for a burst of emotions, calmly, as before, answered the officer of the law, after which their dialog again passed to the stage of silence.

It is not known for what reason the late professor's wife kept silent, but the silence of the investigator was apparently related to what he said next.

– Unfortunately, he got away.

Now the woman still e opened her mouth. The inspector continued in his serene manner:

–And since he never showed himself or contacted you again, we had no reason to look for him. It's still the duty of the Internal Affairs Department.

Seeing the boundary of the visitor's outburst of emotion, he hastened to clarify the situation:

– And sorry, but… – he hesitated, anticipating the imminent end of her silence, – I understand you understand, but… – now he took a note of silence, – agree, we can't arrest everyone who is talking nonsense, excuse me, who was pointed out by a citizen. And I'm sure the police department won't be looking for every crazy person either.

Suddenly she spoke out calmly, albeit in a slightly elevated tone:

– But he came and told me everything my husband knew. All my secrets. That…" she stopped talking, looked away, and finished quieter: – There was no way he could have known that.

The next thing she said in a whisper:

– Could you set me up with a so-called crazy person?


– No," the investigator replied dryly. – What's your point?

She stared at him intently, studying him . The investigator involuntarily became embarrassed and looked away.


– See, I feel like I'm him… like he's not him.


– How's that?


– It felt strange, like I'd met him somewhere before.

Now Moiseyevich studied her facial expression with a slightly amazed expression, as evidenced by the slightly bulging and slightly slanted eyes.

– I'd like to be examined. I'd like to get an expert opinion.


– Why do you need an expert opinion? There was a doctor's report. First of all, your husband worked in a secret research institute called ZASLON, and there's no right to take classified materials out of there. No one would have left you the chip. It was removed. That's right. This lunatic didn't have one. And the fact that he made up some nonsense, I'm sorry.


– What nonsense? He even told our intimate secrets.


– I don't know," said the investigator, – maybe your husband drunkenly blabbed something to him from .

After saying the visitor became agitated, the mask of indignation again appeared on her face:

– You know, I'm very unhappy with your attitude.


– Excuse me, – the investigator said in his serene manner, – what can I say, it's an assumption: there came an unknown type, started to say something to you, you somehow think he's blackmailing you. What was he blackmailing you with?


– He allegedly conveyed to me the husband's request, which he said was for insurance purposes. Allegedly he had contacted him just before his mysterious disappearance.


– Sorry, a mysterious disappearance to you. For us, it's all very clear.


– Okay? Why is that? My husband wasn't an agent- conspirator.


– Oh yes … apparently you didn't know him well.


– I would ask you.


– I'm sorry, I'm sorry, but, uh.


– He couldn't have known events ahead of time.


– However could have planned them.


– What are you trying to say?

The investigator looked away, thoughtful.

Indeed the professor in question was a unicum in his own right: he defended his dissertation at the age of 26, received his degree in 31, and in 32 became the author of a revolutionary scientific development in the field of neurolinguistic programming. In 33 he demonstrated a method of incubation of a cloned body. In the same year – a method of recording human consciousness into a digital form; in 35 – a method of loading a digital form of consciousness into a cloned body; in 36 he received a foreign patent for his invention, which, by the way, he demonstrated in violation of the statute of the closed research institute at an international exhibition of modern weapons. And… no one was able to repeat his method, invention. Or maybe even a discovery. This was a good reason to authorize the detention of the scientist by the competent authorities in order to find out, among other things, whether anyone else knows the secrets of the technology he implemented. After all, it changed the whole structure of human and mankind existence – it was possible to clone oneself young and, repeating this process, to be… eternally alive… and even more – to be different. After all, consciousness could be downloaded into any body.

Reflecting on this, staring at the monitor, ostensibly analyzing what he had heard from the visitor , the investigator was about to ask " what is it?" as she, having made a second pause, carried on: .

– P asked me to zero out all the accounts. How is that even possible? And my husband didn't have any small grants. And e, – she paused again for a couple of seconds, – it turned out that for some reason he had been transferred a very large amount of currency to his international account . An account I didn't know about. This guy did.


– This we also figured out and tried to block all kinds of accounts, – the investigator tried to calm e e down.


– Tell me, please, why didn't you take action to apprehend this blackmailer? And why don't I have access to his accounts, but you do?


– Access to your family accounts? We don't have access to them, we blocked them as part of the investigation procedure.


– Not to family, to offshore and trust.


– Are you sure they exist? I'm sorry, I'm still investigating. I have to ask.

E e face again overflowed with indignation.


– Am I sure?! And this is what – she pulled out of her purse a very expensive go brand sheet- statement from a crypto exchange, showing two accounts with two denominations of cryptocurrencies.

One listed 20 thousand units, the other 5 thousand . The yellow marker circled the amounts at the exchange rate at the time the statement was taken. The sums seen made the investigator slightly embarrassed, to say the least. By virtue of his position, by the level of cases that he had to handle, he had encountered larger sums, but… this was a servant of science. His inquisitive and trained eye figured out another e one peculiarity : the lady took the document from Hermès handbag, namely – from Matte Crocodile Birkin, which was sold at auction for about 203 thousand dollars. His suspicions of a conspiracy component in the script of Rembrandt's drama increased. His reflections put him into a lethargic state, from which he was brought out by the lady's question.


– Am I sure?! What do you say now?


– And where did you get this data from?


– From your madman, as you like to call him.


– Why would he give you that kind of information?


– He had a specific request, he's as crazy as you think he is.


– Let's stay within the bounds of tactfulness.


– Yeah, you should.


– What's the request?

She faltered a little.


– I am listening to you. You came to me for some purpose, – said the investigator in a questioning tone, assessing the visitor with an inquisitive look.

O on looked around, more out of habit, – there was no one in the office, bent slightly toward the investigator and said quietly:

– And do you keep a record?


– No, why? Not yet. If I'm recording, I should warn you. Is there something you want to tell me?


– Yeah. (chuckles)


– I'm listening.

She bent e.

– I all e understand, but all options have been tried. The only thing left is yours.

She was intriguingly silent. Now the investigator looked around involuntarily, looked questioningly at the not e.


– He asked to unlock his computer, then password key generation files, then log into his accounts and transfer the cryptocurrency to an account from which to cash them out. Or use them as currency in electronic payments.


– Hmm, how can I help you? – asked the investigator, thinking for a second. – If even I agree, to you understand to whom and what you are offering, right?


– Absolutely. I told you. I went to ZASLON , they wouldn't let me into his cell block. It's locked and sealed. No security clearance. Maybe you can… You can easily get a search warrant.


– Of course it is. It's investigative procedure. And I've already been there.


– When? may I know…? – she asked with a touch of indignation.


– After I arranged for you to meet with… – the investigator did not continue, she understood everything.

The woman said something else while he was distracted by his own thoughts.

this student had sort of a second family. Very strange, to say the least, regarding the concept of "family". In fact – no family it was not, in content – also relatively. Once he resorted to the help of a surrogate mother, but this very mother announced after the birth that the baby had died, she herself handed the baby over to another family – people who also hired her as surrogate mother . Such a curiosity.

In the process of walking in the labyrinth of the investigation he discovered these white spots of his official biography as details of peripheral history. And they appeared in no less curious turns of the trajectory of the described story: the lady lived on her own; the child, knowing nothing about his true mother or his true father, grew up safely in a family that considered his own child. And they knew nothing of the surrogate's deception. She turned out to be quite a e thing: she tried many people, matched them by blood type and appearance. And this was not her first experience.

However, a genius would not be a genius if he did not understand such a primitive illusion. This lady he had arranged in advance as an assistant in the laboratory of ZASLON JSC. And after such a falsehood with the child, which of course he did not discard, because his suspicions grew stronger and stronger over the years, he decided to put two balls in a hole with one stroke: having lured the surrogate mother into his laboratory, he subjected her to ultrasound at brain frequency, from which she fell temporarily into unconsciousness. After injected her with a syringe microchip in the hypothalamus area, integrated it into central nervous system and without any questioning and interrogation could already know, by decoding the outgoing signals using his methodology, all what her information box – brain – stored.

Finding the girl was not an easy task, the parents cleared all traces , through which the baby girl in the future could learn about the procedure of her conception and birth. However, this barrier too was taken down by the frustrated father within a couple years. After finding her e, he showed some great restraint – he didn't let him know for several years, watched the child from the sidelines. In the end, he decided to endow her with his own invention. To this end, he developed a grandiose production: the father of one of the girl's friends was a graduate student at a technical university. To him he sent a proposal to become a developer of one of the options of the program to calculate the mechanism of signal transmission through nerve cells. The offer was made with an impressive mantle: he was offered to continue the work of Dr. Chailakhyan, a doctor of biological sciences. Thus, as if by the way, it involved him in an experimental program related to work on a chip that was actually already developed. Next, as sya says, sleight of hand and no fraud, that is, the art of suggestion and… lust for the upcoming celebrity. Oh, and money never fails to work wonders. The daughter of a graduate student was shown a virtual reality mask with maximum immersion in the illusion. Permission was granted to show the gimmick to a friend. Choosing a day when the children were practically alone, the mask option was remotely turned on, which emitted the very infrasounds that human hearing does not perceive . And after the girl passed out, they simulated her fall; as a consequence – a small hematoma in the place where the same chip was implanted in the not e. Of course, for the purpose of purity of the experiment, as our genius had conditioned the graduate student. By the way, his daughter was warned in advance that this could happen: you can faint – and then urgently need to call Daddy. In the end, and she became the owner of a unique chip, although she herself did not know about it. By the way, the surrogate mother, , was also unaware of her possession of such a contraption.


– …Here's my suggestion," p rossued from the lady, which brought the investigator out of his musing.


– I'm sorry, of course, – he replied, not quite understanding what the sentence was, – but I dare not detain you any longer. You will be informed of the results of the investigation.


– What? – about to another temper tantrum.

The investigator stood up, walked over to her and pointed with his hand toward the exit.


– Do you have any idea what you're offering me, e and on duty. Please come out, otherwise I will have to reassign you to another status on investigation.


– Like, that's all e what can you do? – t now she said a little pitifully .


– I'll let you know. I'll try to help," he said, stretching his words, looking at her and squinting his left eye. – And now go about your business. Or better home, have a rest… and most importantly – do not tell anyone about our dialog and about what you told me. After all, this is all based on a dialog with interfering nny … sorry, but you can be included in this category.

She opened her mouth. She wanted to object. He showed her an open palm at the level of her face, signaled "be quiet," and again pointed to the exit. The woman stood up, did not take her eyes off him, made incomprehensible movements with her lips, went to the exit, stayed at the door, looked at the investigator, got a nod from him and went out.


***


According to her confession, she was expecting a signal from the investigator for a meeting in a non- official format. However, instead of this she received a signal again from the same "madman" and paid another visit to the investigator with no less angry mood .

Almost from the doorstep she declared:

– H I would like to know why all of our family accounts have been zeroed out by your organization?


– We didn't zero out anything, we seized the accounts temporarily.


– Have you looked at my latest billing records?

Slightly miffed, Moiseyevich replied:

– No. What about them? – he said warily and began entering data on the keyboard in front of the monitor.


– So I suggest you ask," said the wife of the deceased scholar, again changing to an indignant tone. – There is no money in my accounts, that is, in my husband's accounts," she said with reproach.


– Okay, I'll ask about it. Don't be nervous, please, I understand your condition, but… – he stopped talking for a moment, ran his eyes over the monitor without looking up at the woman, and slowly continued: – I will make a request, try to find out what happened, and get back to you.

After mutual silence Moiseevich, without raising his head, looked at the lady and began to study the information in the computer again; asked just as calmly, without taking his eyes off the screen:

– Has no one come to you, asked you through other channels of communication, or inquired about anything, perhaps not even related to the situation at hand?


– Are we going to make me a patient of a psychiatric hospital now? – n unexpectedly from she reacted with such sarcastic question. – I don't have access to the accounts! But you do!


– I do not advise you to speak to an off duty officer in such a tone. At the very least, you are not assisting the investigation," said the investigator without emotion, and after a few moments of waiting, watching the change in her gaze not for the better, he summarized urgently: – D let me find out what's wrong with your accounts first, and then we'll deal with it. Don't worry, everything will be fine. Perhaps it was the banks themselves who transferred the funds to the reserve accounts to avoid fraud.


***


That same evening, the investigator was sorting through responses to requests from banks and b juro credit histories. There was no amazement on his face, although there was something to be amazed about, – all the funds that had mysteriously ended up in the anonymous offshore accounts of the accountant had just as mysteriously disappeared. The amounts that were in the accounts of a leading specialist of a closed research association, though not an oligarch, should have also aroused distress. For him, he was an ordinary student. Although… perhaps not ordinary. The professor, who was listed in the development of special services under code name Rembrandt, was the author of a method, of course, classified, the translation of signals emitted by the brain in the process of mental activity into visually understandable images. Simply put, translation of thoughts into words and pictures. The uniqueness of the method was not so much in this, as in the revolutionary technique of reverse conversion, that is, he could write text and pictures into the brain, program it.

According to a report from the banks, the accounts were transferred to an international trust account registered in the Cayman Islands. The strange thing was that all e was done on behalf of the owner of the accounts using his codes and passwords. At one should have been surprised after all. The reason for the surprise should have been the fact that the account holder had been m victims for three days already.

Rembrandt code

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