The Eyes in the City – SINLESS CRIMINAL Episode 3

The Eyes in the City – SINLESS CRIMINAL Episode 3

The city never slept as he drove back into New Orleans.

Its lights flickered like a heartbeat, its streets hummed with life, and its shadows whispered secrets. For George Manning every corner, every glass window, every idle pedestrian might be hiding something — or someone.

He noticed them first on a rainy Tuesday evening. At the corner of 12th and Mercer, under the orange haze of a streetlamp, a man in a gray overcoat stood too still. George crossed the street, eyes watching in a broken car mirror. The man crossed too — same pace, same timing. Not a coincidence.

George had felt eyes on him for weeks. He thought it was paranoia. After all, who would track a freelance tech consultant with no criminal record and no enemies all because he was set free from a crime he never committed? Or were there other parties to the money? All the armed robbers were arrested and serving life imprisonment.

But something had changed.

They knew where he’d be. Every route he took, every coffee shop he ducked into to “lose them” — someone new showed up. A woman reading the same page of a newspaper for thirty minutes. A jogger who paused near him at every park. A van parked for hours, its engine idling in silence. After visiting the site where the money was buried, they knew he had something very important to pick up there and they set alarm trigger there for him.

He started keeping a notebook. Times, locations, descriptions. He tried to get photos, but faces blurred, and the photos mysteriously disappeared from his phone. Apps crashed. Files corrupted.

He knew tech, but this was beyond commercial surveillance.

They were professionals.

One night, he rented a cheap room in a rundown hotel in Midtown, paying cash. No GPS, no phones. He left no trace. Yet at 3 a.m., a soft knock tapped on his door. He didn’t answer. Whoever was out there just stood there — silent, breathing.

He waited.

After five minutes, footsteps faded.

He moved again.

This time, he went underground. Subway to subway. Hiding in crowds. He started recognizing them by posture, by their stillness in a city of motion. They never approached. Never spoke. Just watched. And waited.

One evening, in the depths of the city’s underground tunnels — far past the last platform — he confronted one. The man was bald, thin, in a black jacket with a silver pin on the collar — a symbol George couldn’t place.

George grabbed him, shoved him against the tunnel wall.

“Who are you? Why are you following me?”

The man didn’t flinch. “We’re not here to hurt you, Michael.”

“Then what do you want?”

“You’ve seen something. You built something. Years ago. Do you remember the algorithm?”

George’s mind raced. The pattern-recognition software. The test program that could predict traffic flow, pedestrian paths, even moods based on micro-movements.

He’d sold it. Or thought he had.

“They’re using it,” the man continued. “But not for traffic. They’ve turned it on the population. You found a way to see behavior before it happens. Now they use it to control.”

George stepped back. “Who are you?”

The man smiled faintly. “Let’s just say… we’re the only ones who aren’t watching you.”

Then he vanished into the shadows.

Now, George wasn’t just running from the watchers. He was hunting them. He had names. Symbols. A list of locations. Somewhere in this city, buried under its glowing surface, the truth hid — and George would find it.

Even if it meant becoming the thing they feared the most.

Someone they couldn’t predict.

As he turned to leave the scene, a ricocheting blow landed on the side of his head, knocking him down.

In the blurry vision, a giant stood over him. He bent over George and said: “Where’s the money?” George didn’t reply. He asked again and George still quiet.

The tunnel was too silent for a man in desperate need of help that fateful night. The giant punched him several times, demanding answer.

While the punching was going on, a flying sledge hammer landed on the giant’s head in acrobatic manner. Another one on his hip made him squat. He went out immediately. A rugged man crossed over to George and dragged him by his jacket collar to a nearby car. The shilling sound of the hammer echoes as the man dragged it along.

The man hauled George into passenger seat and closed the door.

“Is this a rescue or kidnapping?” George inquired as the man mounted the steering wheel and started driving.

“Did I put gag on your fvçkīñg mouth? You can shout for help”, he replied, focusing on the road. That same symbol was on the man’s hand.

“Then where are we going?” George demanded. The driver didn’t say anything. At Canal street, where George rented the man stopped and opened door for George to get out.

“Never open the door for anyone until I call you tomorrow.” The man said and drove off.

George managed to crawl into his apartment and into the bed. He pulled the duvet over his aching body, thinking.

The picture was getting clearer to George. Two group of people were looking for him. One for the money, one for the algorithm and possibly the unknown third party that was illegally using his algorithm.


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