Divine Artifact in a Scientific World-Chapter 66: Sunny’s (1)

Jack opened the door to his hotel room. Standing outside was Wendel, his lawyer, holding a bag. Wendel had mentioned bringing some of his son’s clothes for Jack to borrow, so he assumed that’s what Wendel was holding.

"Jack, did you get any sleep?" asked Wendel, with a touch of concern in his voice.

"Yes, actually. I was able to get more sleep than I expected." A full subjective day had passed for him and he’d actually gotten two full nights of sleep instead of three hours.

"Good, that’s good to hear. Can I come in for a moment? I have some news."

"Sure." Jack stepped back, holding the door open for Wendel. He figured the "news" Wendel mentioned was probably the results of Jensen Forensics’ scan of his desecrated home.

Wendel set the bag on a chair as Jack closed the door. Then he said, "I brought a pair of jeans, slacks, a button-up shirt, and long and short sleeve shirts. I think they’ll fit you."

Jack opened the bag, pulled out the jeans, and looked at the label on the waistband to check the size.

"These are the right size, so I’m sure the rest will fit as well. Thanks for this. I really didn’t want to call off this appointment."

"Great. I’m glad I could help." Then he cleared his throat before saying, "So, um, I received the full report from Jensen Forensics."

Jack’s eyes hardened. "Oh?"

From Wendel’s tone, the damage was probably worse than what he’d seen.

"I have never seen anything like it before in my life. It is truly reprehensible what they did. I just cannot understand how anyone in their right minds could justify that level of destruction."

"Just how bad is it?" he asked.

Wendel had already messaged him a brief description, saying the whole house had been trashed. So he wondered what more could they have discovered.

"You saw the living room, how they even ripped out the sheet rock and tore out the wiring?"

Jack nodded.

"Well, the whole house is like that. In some places worse. They used some kind of saw to tear up the shower enclosure and cut water pipes. They even shattered the toilet. In the kitchen, the cabinets were ripped out, the stove destructively dismantled, all the plates and glasses were shattered, and even many of the pots and pans were bent. I have never seen anything like this. Anything that could be shattered was, anything that could be easily bent was, anything that could be torn was. It makes no sense. Jensen Forensics said they have never seen, or heard, of this level of wanton destruction. Not even in cases of vandalism." freёwebnoѵel.com

Jack clenched his teeth. He didn’t have any proof, but he was convinced this was agent Jackson’s doing. Some act of petty spite. Maybe the man could not stomach the thought of Jack being so rich and him having nothing but a meager government salary.

"Do we have a case? Can we sue them?" asked Jack. Though he wanted to do far more than just sue them.

"Yes, this is probably the most clear-cut case of willful destruction I have ever seen, or heard of. That said, I must warn you, even with a case this clear-cut, there is a good chance you’ll get nothing from them."

Trying hard to keep his voice level and calm, not wanting to reveal his true intentions, Jack asked, "Will we at least learn who did it?"

"Yes, that seems likely."

"Good. What do we need to do to get the ball rolling?" he asked, tone hardening.

"Just give the word, and we’ll get started."

"Yes, please get started. Do whatever it takes. Spare no expense." He could certainly afford a vigorous legal assault.

"Understood. We’ll start by filing criminal charges, then go from there."

"Great" said Jack. Then be paused before continuing, "What about Madison? Any word yet?" He already knew, having heard from Madison in his soul space, but needed to ask in the physical world, so he had a rational explanation for his knowledge.

"The last update from Denise was that Madison is being arraigned tomorrow. Based on the detailed recounting Madison gave, Denise thinks this is either a case of misattribution or an attempted frame job. We won’t know more until we receive the evidence being presented. And, I should warn you, if it’s a frame job, there may be no way to prove it. So, you need to prepare yourself for the possibility of her being wrongly convicted."

Not bloody likely, he thought with grim satisfaction. Madison had utterly wrecked Cascade Marketing’s servers and solidly pinned the blame on their rival Prism Partners. So it was only a matter of time before Madison was released.

"What happens if she’s convicted? Will she have to serve time, or can she get away with community service?" If he didn’t know the truth, this would be a reasonable question for him to ask.

"It’s hard to say. Cascade Marketing is claiming millions in damages, so sentencing could be harsh."

Jack frowned. The real reason was that he thought their claim of millions in damages was bogus, but frowning also seemed like a reasonable response to hearing that Madison might have to do time.

Wendel continued, "We still have hope of turning this around. So don’t lose hope."

Jack nodded, "Understood. I won’t."

They chatted for a few more minutes before Wendel left. Then Jack took a shower, got dressed, and summoned a ride-share to take him to his house so he could get his Land cruiser.

After getting out of the ride-share, he stared at his front door for a few moments. It was closed, and he could see that the forensics people had attached a simple bolt to the door to keep it closed. He knew he would need to go through the house and view the rest of the damage at some point, but he wasn’t ready to see it yet. So, he entered the garage through the side door.

They’d ransacked the garage, but there was no sign of senseless destruction. He walked around both his Land cruiser and GR Supra and saw there was not even a scratch on them and there was no debris blocking either vehicle from exiting his garage, so he climbed into his Land cruiser and pushed the button to open the garage. Nothing happened.

He got out of his car and looked up at the garage door opener and saw that they’d cut the wires. As he was manually opening his garage door, he realized he was almost as angry at the inconvenient as at the sabotage. Here he was, only eighteen, already owned a house with a two-car garage, and yet he was annoyed that he had to open the garage door by hand. The horror! He laughed at himself. Talk about first world problems. His annoyance at having to open and close his garage by hand evaporated, but his cold anger at the destruction of his home remained.

As he drove towards Sunny’s to meet Miranda, he thought about what kind of revenge he wanted. Did he want to go full scorched earth and utterly destroy their lives, or did he want to do to them what they had done to him? Both were possible.

He could templatize and link an entire house and everything in it, then do the destruction in his soul space, or a small simulation, before exporting the damage. It might even be cathartic. And if he had a solid alibi, there would be no way they could pin anything on him. There would be no proof, no forensic evidence that would link the destruction back to him. They might assume he had hired someone else to do the deed, but there would be no money trail to follow. The one problem with that plan was that he would be the only person with a motive to destroy their homes. It would call attention to him and he didn’t want the FIS looking at him, wondering how he did it, because they would assume he had, even if there was no evidence.

No, he needed to find another way. He still liked the idea of planting drugs and drug money in their homes, but that could implicate innocent people like their wives and children. No, he needed to think of something else. And until he knew who the perpetrators were, he couldn’t devise a proper plan.

When he arrived at Sunny’s, he discovered that it was apparently a very popular breakfast spot because the entry area was packed with people waiting to be seated. With the large number of people ahead of him, he wondered if he would have time to eat before he needed to leave for his meeting with Abigail.

As he entered, he heard a cheerful voice call, "Jack?"

He turned and saw Miranda standing next to a woman with a striking resemblance to her. The woman look only a few years older than Miranda, and had a similar voluptuous figure.

Acting according to the script he and Miranda had worked out in his soul space, he said, "Miranda? Fancy meeting you here."

He approached and said, "And is this your sister?"