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I’ve got a feeling this girl doesn’t network. She’s careful where she looks. She’s in the Ether. How did she get past the protocols? Doesn’t seem to be an issue. She’s logging into a record. Whose eyes is she looking through? Jesper Nix, a money-leading art dealer. Two galleries on the Upper East Side. Who is he? Max Keener, . Known forger, priors. Paintings? I know what they’re supposed to be. Naughty Jesper. She’s getting rid of Jesper’s meeting with the forger. Replaces it with Jesper acting like he’s discovered these priceless works of art. My God, exquisite. She logged out already. You trace her? Twelve proxies. The last one’s anonymous. Proxies hackers used to hide. Nice job, connecting the dots. Not ’til the end. What’s Nix doing now? “You live to tell the tale.” Setting up appointments to sell the fakes. Keep tabs on him. Yes, sir. Let me know if our agoraphobe goes out on the town. We watched her all night. We still don’t have her location. Got to hand it to her. She really is analog. Wish she’d look out a window. Finally. Where’d she go? We lost her. The chain of proxies? She broke the links. Start a new chain. Common practice. Did she see us? No. At least we know she likes her eggs sunny-side up. Sir. What’s happened? Nix sell one of his paintings? We don’t have to worry about that anymore, sir. Nix is dead. Same M.O.? Killer’s POV. What do you want? Are you crazy?! What do you want? What do you want? What do you want? They just posted from the crime scene. This case… it’s become a priority for us. We understand, Commissioner. I don’t know if you do, Detective. Five murders. It’s not the murders. Sorry, Mr. Kenik. This is a homicide case. This level of anonymizing makes all crime possible. It hinders our expansion to sub-crime. Those lowlifes got what was coming… Victims. We’re getting reports daily. Ghosts, ciphers… call them what you will. The integrity of the system is compromised. The integrity? We rely on transparency. We can’t control what we can’t see. We require persistent identity. This isn’t an isolated case. We believe there’s a ring of individuals who may or may not know each other. They, like her, anonymize themselves and others. I don’t care the victims no longer exist. I care that she doesn’t. In my mind, she’s murdered herself. Oh, I see. Taking a life, that’s not important. Her not having one, that is? Yes. Now you understand. We need the first proxy in the new chain. You’re going back under cover. Sitting in a police precinct with the commissioner of police. I think that’s the definition of blowing my cover. It’s only been three days. We put a patch over it. Make it look like you’ve been in the brokerage house. If, like you say, she doesn’t look back, she might go for it. Loyal customer. Maybe she does have a thing for you. Yeah, she’s also got a thing for blowing people’s brains out. You heard what Kenik said. There’s a of a lot of commercial interests at work here. Way above our pay grade. Anonymity is the enemy. We got to find out how she does it and… de-anonymize her. Same deal. We stay back, so she’s not spooked. Gentlemen… when you make the patch… try to make it half as good as hers. You sure this isn’t an excuse to see me again? You don’t like repeat business? Why haven’t you done it? Waiting for a special occasion. Cut up some lines while I do this. I can replace the dealer with a hooker. Dogs. I don’t like dogs. Or nothing at all. You ever met anyone else who can do what you do? Who doesn’t exist? How could I? No need to do the dealer’s side. He never laid eyes on you. I love those guys who do it blind. We close our eyes to pray, cry, kiss, dream… or break the law. You can stay anonymous. It’s just really hard. You do this why? Pay the bills? Why else? You might have an agenda. You got the wrong girl. It’s simple. They try to look, I try not to be seen. But if you’re asking if I think it’s ed up? Yeah, I think it’s ed up. They say it’s for our safety. Why don’t I feel safe? How long have you not existed? You ask a lot of questions. You don’t answer them. Eighteen. Once in a lifetime chance. Started erasing. I didn’t stop until I was gone. In a lot of ways, it’s the analog evidence that’s harder to track down and destroy. DFE. Delete everything. I never was happy in the big room. The big room? Outside world. Flesh space. Part of the planet that’s not cyberspace. You know that’s illegal. You sure you have a girlfriend, Sol? You sure act like a single guy. Is there something else you’d like to do? That I can erase? Gotta make that disappear. Delete everything. Especially the . You really don’t like to look back, do you? Like you. Hello, Sal Frieland, Detective First Class. What have you done? It’s not that you don’t like to look back, you can’t. Not without giving away who you really are. He’s dead. You should’ve thought about that. Don’t try to find me. Look and you are dead. You let her escape. And kill Lester on the way out. I don’t know if you can walk that back, Sal. She saw past our wall. Her own records. Go home. Take some time. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.