Getting the FBI involved was the right decision. While they were doing the menial task of poring over paper documents and following leads and trails across America, Nines was free to continue the hunt. Far from keeping him out of the loop, Perkins had insisted he be kept in the know. DPD rules dictated that people close to the case couldn't be involved. Perkins disagreed. People close to the case were relentless in getting results, and that's what he needed. With their interests aligned, it made sense to work together. Colin disagreed, but Nines would be out there hunting regardless, and he felt better knowing where his brother was and what he was doing. The exchange of information was a good leash. It was also nice getting to meet face to face.

Nines waited for them at the old antique shop, letting Perkins slip by to poke around while he and Colin paused in the open doorway. His clothes were still wet then, which made Colin's brow pinch with worry. It didn't truly matter. Androids couldn't get sick. That was Nines' outlook as he huffed and reassured him. Finding the shop had given him a second wind, lifting his spirits for the first time in months. It seemed like a real, tangible lead. The first sign that perhaps the Hickory Killer had slipped up. Had I recalled Fifty-Seven's words sooner, we may have found Gavin a long time ago…He pushed the thought away. Looking back wouldn't help. They had the lead now. They just needed to make a connection.

Not long after interfacing with Colin, a whole truckload of FBI agents turned up to flip the place. Every box of papers they could find was removed. Every inch was checked. Downstairs, upstairs, the attic. They even checked for secret rooms and hidden spaces, though none were found. Nines hadn't expected any. This was simply an old shop. There was nothing to suggest the Hickory Killer had ever used it as a base of operations. It had simply been a convenient location to bring Gavin, as the boat was simply a convenient way of getting around. Getting around the river…

"We should check the other ports and see if anyone recognises the boat…Perhaps someone knows where it comes from." Nines was thinking the same thing. The fact he was docking along the river either meant he was deliberately throwing them off, or he was coming across from Canada. We have considered Canada as an option, however no disappearances have been reported there…Without the help of Canadian officials, they couldn't just launch a search either. Things could get a lot more complicated. They needed a fresh lead. It wouldn't do to divert resources unnecessarily.

The next morning, they split up. While Perkins and half of his team, notably the older half, remained at headquarters to pour over files, Nines, Colin, and the two younger members headed to the different harbours along the river. Nines and Colin travelled alone while the humans went together. There were a lot more boats when Nines arrived at his next harbour, most of them small fishing boats. Being a more popular and better run dock meant it would be more difficult for him to get information without his badge. Luckily, he had other avenues. A popular dock meant more technology, and technology was easily hacked. While making small-talk at the counter, trying to charm whatever information he could, Nines subtly touched the back of the terminal and started an interface.

Since it had little sensitive information, it was easy for him to slip by its defences and download the logs he needed. A quick search of the boat's name and registration brought up two entries in the last six months. The Hickory Killer didn't stop here often, perhaps because the records were so well kept. Spreading his visits along the bank was smart. The lack of pattern even more so. Having the information he needed, Nines excused himself to search the boats currently docked and talk to those he met along the way. He was lucky to find so many people outside; it being winter and the weather fairly bleak. It wasn't raining like the night before, so many fishermen were on deck completing various tasks. Being such a rare visitor, he was unsurprised that many had no recollection of the small boat. He tried both the name and a picture on his holographic display, with minimal results. Even those who had seen it didn't remember much about it.

The coastguard also docked along this strip, which was a lot more useful. Where most fishermen kept to themselves and made no note of other boats they came across unless they were in each other's way, the coastguard was another matter. It was their job to keep track of and monitor river activity. Hoping someone may remember passing it, Nines headed along the wooden walkway towards the cordoned off area. There was a uniformed man waiting, squinting suspiciously as he approached. It was rare for androids to wear Cyberlife uniforms these days, and they weren't often seen around the water.

Many shunned the icy depths, wary of the guards who'd killed so many of their people during the revolution. Although they'd been doing their job, it was a small comfort to those who'd tried to cross the river. Few had made it all the way, and the waves still occasionally carried stray bodies to shore. The coast guard did their best to keep those quiet, hurriedly closing off the area and calling in forensics before the media could write about yet another poor android soul cruelly killed by the authorities. Even after all this time, they still couldn't catch a break. Nines imagined Perkins might feel similarly with his own reputation. He was still feared in many android circles as a ruthless hunter. The description wasn't entirely inaccurate, even now. He was just hunting different prey.

"No civilians beyond this point. I'm going to have to ask you to turn around." Although he spoke firmly, his hand didn't stray to his sidearm. Wary as he was, he knew better than to point his gun at an android. It would probably be plastered all over the news in ten seconds flat. Nines continued his approach, hold his arms wide to show he was unarmed and peaceful. Seeing he clearly had something to discuss, the guard stepped further out to meet him, making it easier for them to talk semi-privately. "You need something?"

"I do…" Nines raised his hand, palm up, and brought up the small boat on his display. The young man frowned a little as he looked at it, squinting at the details. "I require information about this boat and its owner. It's suspected to be involved in an ongoing FBI investigation." The fact he was wearing a uniform and spoke with such authority seemed to be enough to convince the guard he didn't have to ask for ID. News of the FBI investigation piqued his interest, and he looked even harder before shrugging. He didn't recognise it, but he mostly worked on the dock.

"I don't know it myself…You say it's an active FBI investigation?" Nines chest fell somewhat at the news, but he was still hopeful as he nodded. The young man looked around, possibly trying to spot one of his colleagues on a nearby patrol boat. There were three docked in a row, and a space where a fourth should have been. "I don't know if they'll be much help, but there are a few men on The Milton over there. They're running through final checks, ready to ship out in a few hours." Nines nodded his thanks and strode by with purpose, thankful he'd been allowed to pass unchallenged.

The ship he approached was quite large, obviously meant for the deeper parts of the river. It was also fitted with guns, like those that had mercilessly picked off his brethren as they'd tried to flee to Canada. At the top of the ramp was another uniformed guard, who watched him approach with a relaxed air. No alarms had been sounded, so he rightly assumed his colleague on the pier had waved him through. Upon asking permission to board, Nines was invited up and went through the same process again.

Apparently, Jonny was the most likely to remember that sort of thing. He could be found at the bow of the ship, where he was checking the anchors and ensuring everything was in good condition. Jonny was around Gavin's age. Seasoned and experienced, with sharp eyes. He also shared Gavin's modest stature, though his muscles were more defined. He tipped his cap in greeting and looked at the picture Nines showed him, eyes widening slightly as soon as he saw it.

"Oh! Dr Berkshall's boat, sure! He's always pottering about. Well, him or his android." Nines' thirium pump slammed into overdrive. It couldn't be this simple! There was no way, after all this time, that he was getting a tangible lead! He tried not to seem too eager, nodding politely and hoping he'd say more. "A rare case, that one. Has special permission to travel both sides of the border." That was interesting. Most ships had to seek special permission and fill out paperwork constantly to be allowed such access.

"Why is that?" With such permission being so rare, there must be a reason.

"Oh, it's part of his work contract. Lives on Fighting Island, working for the BASF. Not sure how he does it, being the only one out there maintaining the land, but he seems to enjoy it. He runs tours for school and college groups, and occasionally has research guests, but he's the only one who lives there full-time. Not sure I could do it with the isolation. Still, I expect that's why he has an android, you know? To keep him company and do supply runs." This human was a treasure trove of information! If he let him, Jonny seemed like he'd go on for hours. Nines was tempted to let him do just that, but he needed more specific information.

"What does he do on the island?"

"Maintenance mostly. It used to be a dumping ground way back, but it's been fixed up over the years. It's a nature reserve these days; a good place to study biodiversity and things like that. I don't know the exact nature of his research, but I do know the island has a strict schedule for visitors and an even stricter overnight policy. They don't want people upsetting the order of things, you know?" Nines nodded. That seemed wise where the environment was concerned, but it also offered the Hickory Killer the perfect hiding place. With the freedom to come and go on either side of the river, he could space out his visits for supplies. Being the only resident likely meant no one checked in regularly, and those who did were very temporary guests. So long as none of those guests went missing, there was no need to suspect him of any wrongdoing. He was in the perfect Goldilocks Zone.

"Do you know anything about him on a personal level?" Jonny shrugged, leaning on the railing and enjoying the brief respite talking to Nines presented.

"Not much. Very private man. We just know him as Dr Berkshall, but we have his permit on record somewhere." The permit suggested his registration was handled on the Canadian side of the river. Clever. He probably had another boat registered under his own name there, while using the battered fishing boat on the Detroit side. It wasn't uncommon to have more than one boat, and with an entire island to dock along, he could have multiple. So long as Dr Berkshall showed his permit, they probably didn't look too hard at the boat he was steering, especially not a privately own one. He was no threat, just a lone researcher shopping for supplies.

"How regular are his trips to shore?" Jonny hummed thoughtfully, trying to remember the last time he'd seen him. He wasn't out on the river every day, and they didn't strictly keep track of him since he could come and go as he pleased.

"I see him out on the water maybe three times a week, but he doesn't always go to shore. Being alone out there, I'm sure he enjoys fishing and a change of scenery, you know?" Nines could imagine. He could also imagine that Jonny only saw what Dr Berkshall wanted him to see. It would be a simple matter to slip around the coastguard and remain undetected in such a small boat, especially if they didn't look at his comings and goings. Many Canadians crossed the borders daily for work, mostly by car, so it wasn't unusual to have people coming and going in both directions. It was the perfect setup. A citizen of Canada with a respectable reputation secretly terrorising the streets of Detroit.

"I see…Thank you for your time. You've been most helpful." Nines was already connecting to the DPD database to look up the surname as he left. Dr Richard Roy Berkshall. He was registered as having free access to Detroit waters, however, there was no other record of his name. Nines' LED span yellow as he looked deeper. There were no known instances of the surname Berkshall anywhere else. A pseudonym? Unless it was a name in Canada…No. Another dead end. He couldn't look into his Canadian records, so he could only assume he'd constructed his identity with enough credibility to trick his current employers into hiring him. Perhaps it is not unlikely with his level of technological awareness…

Colin, I may have a lead.

I also had some limited success. One Dr Berkshall is a regular visitor in the city. Excellent. He didn't need to play catchup. Excitement swelled in his chest cavity as he gazed out at the river, vainly searching for the distant island. Gavin…He was out there. They were so close he could taste it! Unfortunately, they couldn't simply raid the island without the permission of the Canadian authorities. Of course…what they don't know won't hurt them. The FBI couldn't make a move, but Nines was under no such limitation. He no longer worked for the DPD, and was only assisting the FBI as a courtesy. The bureaucratic nonsense would take too long, especially when dealing with the laws of a separate country. He didn't have time to wait. It was also likely the Canadian authorities would thank them for their involvement before insisting they handle the raid themselves. Unacceptable. If Gavin was over there, then Nines would find him and bring him home.