The milky dawn of Malpensa welcomes Daniel Kamanzi, epidemiologist turned investigator, as the mystery of the LYL-8 cryotubes thickens like fog on the runway. A shipment disguised as exotic fruit actually hides titanium cylinders and unstable molecules, a weapon as subtle as it is lethal. Lieutenant Ferretti and Kamanzi sense deception behind the comical labels and refrigerated containers: it's the shadow of Haruto, the ghostly whisperer of the PhobosCrew network. But time is running out. An armored convoy, a shootout on the highway, a diversion that smells of real mangoes: the real cargo is headed for Lake Como.
There, in an Art Nouveau villa surrounded by influencers and "anti-stress" cosmetics, yet another act of the grand deception unfolds. Aya Nakamura poses as the event's doctor, while beneath the soothing perfumes lurks the threat of a neurochemical nebulization. Polunin, the elegant and ruthless mastermind of the illegal distribution, is on the verge of escape. But something changes: a vial falls, an unexpected gesture changes fate.
And finally, Berlin. A riot of real emotions in the packed stadium contrasts with the silent plan to release a psychoweapon into the air. Kamanzi, Ogata, and Leone play their final match amidst tunnels, fans, and encrypted codes. The team blocks the emotional contagion, shattering the illusion of a synthetic calm. Humanity, once again, can choose its own truth. But the question remains: as long as someone wants to sell emotions in test tubes, will we truly be free?
A team of Japanese scientists announces the molecule LYL 8, capable of inhibiting negative impulses in the amygdala; financial markets, governments, and bioethicists question the impact of a society without anger.
Stories. Osaka unveils LYL 8: the first 'anti-rabies pill'. Chapter 13 – Shadow Stopover at Malpensa
Milan-Malpensa, remote cargo area, May 24 – 5:32 AM.
The Interpol 737 finished its run with its reversers open and a trail of water spray from its wheels. The captain cut the engines, but the whine of the turbofan seemed to linger in the milky air drifting from the moorland toward the runway.
Daniel Kamanzi—forty-four, an epidemiologist turned detective—felt the Lombardy cold making his nostrils, still stinging with kerosene from Nairobi, wrinkle. He clutched his splinter-proof jacket under his left arm; with his right, he instinctively felt for the small bottle of hyperbaric oxygen he'd always carried with him since breathing chloroform during a botched raid in Liberia.
At the foot of the stairs, Lieutenant Luisa Ferretti, Guardia di Finanza – SOA (Anti-Terrorism Operations Section), was waiting for him. The yellowish light of dawn gleamed on her hair, pulled back in a bun that looked soldered with tin. Her ballistic vest was left half open, revealing a sage-colored sweatshirt with the words "Politecnico di Milano" written on it—a reminder that behind her martial air was a doctorate in explosive materials engineering.
"Welcome to Padania, Dr.
Kamanzi," he began, handing him a temporary badge that smelled of fresh ink. "The container has been here for two hours and twenty-five minutes. Registered as fresh exotic fruit, fast customs and DHL transit. But the integrated probe indicates departure at minus eighty degrees. More Siberian than tropical."Climbing into an armored Iveco VM90 pickup truck, they took the asphalt path that ran behind the hangars. The slats of the streetlights dripped condensation: a metronome of water beating on the armored roof. Kamanzi, behind the bulletproof windshield, mentally listed the IATA codes stamped on the stacked containers: ZA for South Africa, CN for China, IN for India… Each acronym a potential gateway to a new alchemy of emotions.
“PhobosCrew?” he asked, pointing his thumb at the lime green icon that cut through an orange box like a cat’s scratch.
Ferretti nodded. "Logistics hackers specializing in cargo triangulation. They made a name for themselves in the era of fake vaccinations: water-filled needles, authentic certificates. Now they're trafficking what's left of the LYL-8 black market."
They pulled up in front of DHL Building 17B, cordoned off with black and yellow tape. Under the raised doors, men in white overalls attached temperature guns and Raman scanners to the Styrofoam crates....
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