"It makes no sense. We've been over this footage I don't know how many times and there's still nothing to go on."
Locke and a crowd of his men had gathered round the screen and watched the footage again and again, and still nothing came of it.
Played back frame by frame, they could pick out the small movement Nils made, and something faintly being thrown clear of his hand.
But in everything that followed, right up to their own men arriving at the spot, there was nothing at all.
"Alakazam, did you feel any spatial power there at the time?"
"Zam—"
The Alakazam shook its head. If a person or a Pokémon had used Teleport or some other spatial technique there, it could very likely have sensed the residue of spatial power left behind — and there had been none.
"Tsss. That's not possible. Without spatial power the thing can't simply vanish into thin air, and with the Alakazam's hypnosis on him, that little wretch couldn't have been lying either."
"Boss, could it have happened inside those dozen-odd seconds?"
One of the men put his suspicion there. For those dozen-odd seconds the backwash had rocked the hull and thrown the power supply out; a dozen seconds later it was working again.
"Who went past that spot?"
"Three people went past there in those dozen-odd seconds."
"Then go to all three of their cabins and have a look."
"Yes, sir."
A while later, of the three men sent out two came back, both reporting nothing found. Questioning under hypnosis came to the same.
"Boss, it's bad, something's happened! Number One's been hit back at, and the other side showed who they were. The man is International Police!"
Someone came in with the report a few minutes later.
"International Police? This is bad. Pass the word to every member — execute the lie-low plan!"
At the news Locke's eyes went wide. Had they been exposed? Had the International Police got their eye on them?
None of that was clear yet, though. All he could do was run the plan first and go to ground.
Elsewhere, the International Police officer who called himself Looker was holding up an identification card, a magnificent Arcanine standing at his side, saying something to a man in front of him.
The man checked the card and gave up the attack.
"My apologies. We were only thinking of the safety of the S.S. Anne. We had no idea who you were."
The man understood that he and his people had not been exposed, and reacted at once, making it clear he had acted out of concern for safety; conveniently he was a guard aboard the S.S. Anne as well, so it was his job.
"Notify your superior and have him come here. We want your cooperation with our investigation."
Looker of the International Police said it clearly.
"Not at all. I'll notify him now."
The man got in touch with Locke at once and explained what had happened.
"The the Valley of Dragons investigation? That's all right, then."
Presently Locke appeared there, all smiles and deference.
"A pleasure, a pleasure. I am Locke, acting Executive Director of the S.S. Anne. What can I do for you, officer?"
"Good day, Director Locke. Here is my identification. I am asking you now to cooperate with the International Police. We have information that a pseudo-legendary is to change hands in secret aboard your S.S. Anne tonight. The pseudo-legendary's origin is unknown; we suspect it is the work of the ring that stole the Pokémon out of the Valley of Dragons, and that ring is tied to the theft at the Kalos Academy of Sciences."
"Certainly, certainly. Ours is a legitimate business. We will cooperate fully with your work, officer."
Locke agreed readily, the picture of an honest man.
...............
"We don't need to go on looking."
Nolan had had word: the two of them could stop searching blindly.
"Oh? Why is that?"
Vance asked, drawing out what more he could.
"No idea. Maybe they decided there was no point going on. Maybe they found it."
Nolan guessed.
"I see."
Seeing that he did not know either, Vance nodded.
Inside, he was wondering why those people would stop. They certainly had not found the Deino, because the Deino was with him.
So what had made them break off?
While he was turning it over, Nolan's phone rang.
"Hello, uncle."
From the way he said uncle, the call was from Lt. Surge.
A moment later Nolan set the phone down, his face grave, and said to Vance, "There's likely to be a big fight before long. I've had word that the International Police have traced this here, and they're calling in the garrison forces of several cities nearby to assist with the investigation. What they want is to take the hunting outfit that stole the pseudo-legendary — the one lying low aboard the S.S. Anne to make the sale."
"What? How did the International Police get dragged into this? Is it that big?"
Vance found it odd as well. How had the International Police turned up here?
"Who knows? There may be reasons behind it we don't know about."
"Then doesn't that mean the S.S. Anne is..."
"Ha, you're overthinking it. Going by how these things usually go there'll be a fine and that's all — the people behind the S.S. Anne are hard to touch. The ones who'll really suffer are those hunters. No telling what they did to go so far over the line, but they've brought the International Police down on themselves this time."
Nolan laughed. He knew this sort of thing inside out.
Vance laughed along with him. In that case, wasn't this his chance to fish in troubled waters?
From all this Vance also understood that Team Rocket's people had not been exposed: what the International Police were after were the hunters who would be making the sale aboard the S.S. Anne.
Now it was getting interesting. It felt livelier by the hour, with the International Police joining in as well, and there was no telling how it would go from here.
The S.S. Anne had long since left the human cities behind and was drifting on the open sea ahead, and up on deck a good many men and women with the look of couples leaned on the rail above the blue water, taking in how vast the sea was.
Behind them three men and a woman in casual sunglasses lay back in deck chairs, comfortably on holiday.
The four of them were a hunting outfit that worked across a good many leagues, living by catching rare creatures and selling them, and they were strong enough that even a pseudo-legendary Pokémon was within their reach.
"We'll clear a billion or so on this one. After that we rest a while and decide what's next."
said a burly man with a full beard and a chest thick with black hair, stripped to the waist in a pair of shorts, lazily.
He was the leader of the outfit, Ryder, an Elite-Four-class Trainer, and a considerable name among the factions.
"A billion's a bit thin. I heard that Gible went for a billion at auction. This has to be worth more than that."
said the companion beside him, looking doubtful.
"Heh. Our price was fixed in advance. If they can sell it high, that's their skill, not ours."
"Ryder, do you really think there's nothing wrong with this? Ever since lunch I've had a bad feeling about it."
said the woman among the four.
The moment she spoke the three men turned serious and all looked at her.
"By rights there's nothing wrong with it. Director Jeffrey Thorne and I have worked together plenty of times." Ryder had lost his holiday mood as well, and his brows drew together slightly.
He plainly cared what the woman said, because his fourth sister was an extremely rare Psychic, born with a sense for what would profit her and what would harm her.
If she said so there was certainly something in it, and the three of them could not help taking it seriously.