Maxi believed there was a connection between Aros’s suspicious disappearances and Berry’s bombings. He was convinced that the numbers in Aros’s bizarre video were not random, and that the words “man,” “apple,” and “woman” represented something—symbols, perhaps, or coded markers.

But despite long hours of thought, despite approaching it like a sudoku or a riddle, he could not reach any concrete conclusion about the video.

Giving up was never his style. He became certain that the most critical pieces of the puzzle lay buried in Aros’s past, and he zoomed his mind back into that dark, unexplored territory.

After learning the date range in which Aros first disappeared, Maxi began by checking whether he had left the country. There was no record of any foreign travel in Aros’s life—no passport ever issued in his name.

Maxi had gone far beyond the diligence expected of an ordinary investigator. He combed through border-crossing and airport footage from the days of Aros’s disappearance—left hand wrapped around a cup of coffee, right hand dancing constantly across the keyboard—working night after night inside the national security digital archives.

His persistence finally paid off. Based on a photo he had, he spotted Aros on-screen—this time with sunglasses and a mustache. A short investigation confirmed it: he had passed a security checkpoint using a false identity and a passport issued to someone else. The flight Aros boarded was bound for Austria. Shortly afterwards, using the same fake identity, he flew from there to Cairo. The moment Maxi saw that, suspicion flared.

There had been a direct flight to Cairo available at nearly the same time. The only reasonable explanation for choosing a detour was to conceal the true destination—standard practice among terrorists who did not want it known they were entering countries associated with militant activity.

With assistance from Interpol and Egyptian security, Maxi tried to trace Aros in Cairo—where he had stayed, what he had attempted there. His search came up empty. Among the tourists visiting the pyramids and the Nile, there was no one registered under the alias “Nick” used in the false passport. Even hotel records confirmed that no such person had ever checked in. More puzzling still, there was no recorded departure from Egypt under that identity—or any other linked to Aros.

“If he didn’t stay in a hotel, and there’s no record of him leaving the country, then how did he come back to Germany?” Maxi muttered to himself.

And yet the border logs were clear: two years later, the same man re-entered Germany—by land. Maxi weighed the possibilities. Perhaps Aros had lived somewhere remote in Egypt for two years. But given that he never used a credit card, and considering the Egyptian government's tense security climate at the time—especially with the Muslim Brotherhood crisis—this scenario felt unlikely, if not impossible.

The most reasonable possibility was this:
With its thousands of kilometers of coastline, Egypt had long been a departure point for migrants. Aros likely boarded a smuggler’s vessel, as countless others did each year. After two years at sea, he may have reached Italy, then traveled by land into Germany.

Permanent residence in Italy or Greece would have been impossible after the strict immigration measures both countries had adopted. At best, such countries could have been used as temporary corridors.

What pushed Maxi toward this theory was a murky, unverified intelligence report suggesting that international ships in the Mediterranean were involved in illicit trades—arms and narcotics trafficking. Even though the report did not directly link the operations to terrorism, experience had taught Maxi one thing: wherever weapons and drugs circulated, terrorism was never far away.

After outlining his reasoning and his concerns, Maxi contacted the coast guards of countries bordering the Mediterranean—Italy, Greece, Türkiye, Syria, Israel, Egypt, and Libya—to ask whether vessels permanently anchored in international waters existed, and, if so, who controlled them.

He knew the answers would take time. He resigned himself to waiting.

Meanwhile, Maxi turned his attention to the forensic medical report on Aros, who had been transferred to Berlin’s state pathology center for comprehensive examination. Every terror suspect was tested there; the institution’s reports were considered virtually infallible. The opening paragraphs contained nothing unusual. As the preliminary report had indicated, neither the blood nor urine samples showed traces of narcotics or related substances. Additionally, the samples suggested that Aros had never been addicted to drugs.

Maxi read each line carefully, weighing every phrase. But the final paragraph stopped him cold:

“According to CT and ultrasound imaging, no implanted devices—such as audio transmitters, GPS trackers, or recording equipment—were detected in the subject’s head. However, MR imaging indicates the absence of certain cerebral lobes. Portions of the frontal lobe and limbic system are missing. The severed or absent areas of the limbic system, responsible for encoding emotional responses such as fear, joy, and sorrow, explain the subject’s lack of fear. The partial absence of the frontal lobe, the center of reasoning and foresight, explains why the subject exhibits no concern regarding imprisonment or death.”

Without wasting a second, Maxi accessed the national health database to retrieve Aros’s medical history. He doubted he would find anything. Anyone capable of using forged identities and passports to hide foreign travel would never leave a paper trail for a surgery of this magnitude. If such an operation had occurred, it would have been off the record.

He remembered what the family had said: after Aros’s second disappearance, he returned with stitches on his scalp. They had no explanation for the injury.

Maxi was about to contact them again when a file suddenly appeared on-screen—Aros’s medical record. He stared at it in disbelief. According to the report, Aros had undergone brain surgery during the period he was missing. And it had been performed by a renowned neurosurgeon: Professor William. The stated purpose of the operation: to treat epileptic seizures.

“Strange,” Maxi muttered. “The man had this surgery under his own Social Security number, and yet his family never mentioned epilepsy. None of his previous medical records indicate such a condition.”

Lights began switching on in Maxi’s mind. His first step would be to visit the family and verify whether Aros had ever suffered from epilepsy. He already anticipated the answer would be no. And if that were true, it meant Aros—or the force behind him—was powerful enough to fabricate medical reports within state systems. Another detail had not escaped his notice.

“A network with this level of reach wouldn’t waste forged documentation on something as trivial as a scare tactic outside a church. If they planted bombs, they were aiming for something far more spectacular.”

It was impossible to believe that Maxi had never heard of William, one of the most prominent and media-savvy doctors in the country. Yet the appearance of his name in this context was troubling. A man who preached peace and tolerance had nothing to do with terror—or at least, he wasn’t supposed to. Perhaps William had nothing to do with the report itself. Maybe he had operated on a man genuinely diagnosed with epilepsy. But it was equally true that after the surgery, Aros had become fearless—almost chemically detached from fear—and had gone on to commit an act designed to terrify and destabilize the public.

And that, by itself, placed Dr. William under suspicion. Two contradictory questions kept circling in Maxi’s mind, refusing to settle: If the man was connected to a hidden, illegal network, why leave behind visible traces of the operation? Why allow proof to exist at all?

And worse—why forge documentation that explicitly drew attention to the surgery? Why manufacture an epilepsy diagnosis that would lead investigators straight to William?

In the end, Maxi formalized his roadmap:

1. Ask the family whether Aros had ever been an epilepsy patient.

2. If not, identify who fabricated the medical report stating that he was.

3. If the diagnosis was false, determine why Dr. William performed brain surgery on him at all.

4. Establish whether the loss of the limbic system—resulting in fearlessness—was a surgical accident or intentional.

He was deep inside these questions, sketching answers in his mind, when an unexpected call arrived from the chief’s secretary. The voice on the other end was abrupt, official, and cold:

“You will no longer handle the Aros case. Due to the suspect’s abnormal psychological profile—far beyond typical parameters—the file is being reassigned. As we do with all cases involving extreme anomalies, it will go to Mark and Suleiman.”

Specialist Officer Maxi stared at the phone, unable to process what he had just heard

“Sir, there is nothing supernatural about this case. Aros is fearless because of a medical intervention to his brain. There is no mystical or religious dimension here. In fact, although I don’t yet have enough evidence to prove it, I believe Aros is not an ordinary individual, but someone groomed and tasked by a powerful network. I suspect those forces are connected to terrorist factions, and that he may be linked to Berry’s attack on Police Headquarters.”

The voice on the other end of the pager responded with an irritatingly smug tone, dripping with condescension:
“No one asked for your opinion. I’m informing you that you’re off the case.”

Maxi knew there was nothing more he could do. He left a memo for a trusted colleague, noting his suspicions. He stressed, in particular, the need to monitor intelligence regarding vessels in the Mediterranean that operated outside normal maritime systems—ships that appeared legitimate but facilitated illegal activities—and to follow up on any responses from Mediterranean nations to whom inquiries had been sent.

Closing the folder for the last time, Maxi reflected on what had just happened. He had seen officers removed before—when politicians were threatened, or when drug lords were close to being cornered. But this was the first time he felt he was being yanked away from an investigation that might have led directly to a terrorist network. He muttered under his breath:

“I’ve done my part. I just hope Mark and Suleyman realize soon enough that they’re walking into a labyrinth where no one knows what waits at the exit.”