be honest, Varina shifted uncomfortably when he saw Quaid, but he quickly recovered and concealed it by adjusting his posture.
He observed carefully and found that no one noticed his movement, including Quaid, who had just come in.
"Ha, almost confessed without being asked. Is this what it feels like to have a guilty conscience?"
Quaid walked straight to Susan after entering and stated his purpose directly: "The boss sent me to see York Luca and ask a few important questions."
Susan frowned at the bluntness of his words, but considering his gangster background, she suppressed the urge to accuse him and asked,
"So you want me to help you meet Mr. Luca?"
"Yes," Quaid nodded, "I don't know him, and I can't get into that office."
Susan glanced at Varina and John, noticing they were watching the commotion, and glared at them before continuing,
"A lot of questions? Can you tell me so I can ask them for you?"
Quaid considered the questions he needed to ask and realized they would affect the gang's reputation, so he shook his head directly: "No."
"I can go see Mr. Luca and tell him, but he's busy, and I can't guarantee he'll see you. Also, I'll only help you this once."
Susan tried to be as straightforward as possible about her decision to avoid being bothered if things didn't go smoothly later.
"Okay,"
Quaid agreed, but in his heart he was thinking, "If this still doesn't work, then there's no need to follow the rules."
Was he the kind of person who followed the rules? Of course not. If
Red-Haired Kirk hadn't given him a heads-up before he came here, he would have already started yelling.
After Susan left, Quaid looked around and saw Varina and John busy scribbling away, seemingly overwhelmed with work, and couldn't help but scoff.
In his opinion, this job was practically torture; he'd rather get injured in a fight than suffer like this.
This awkward, mutually unfriendly scene lasted for a short while before Susan returned,
with Mr. Luca.
York Luca had only decided to make time to meet this gangster because of the chairman. But he was genuinely busy, so he didn't care about appearances and immediately asked,
"What questions does your boss have?"
Quaid didn't answer immediately but pointed to the door, "You three, get out."
It was obvious which three people he was referring to.
The three looked at Mr. Luca.
Mr. Luca's already furrowed brow deepened.
"Five minutes, you only have five minutes,"
he uttered. The three of them immediately understood and turned to leave the cabin.
Outside, they chatted idly, mostly speculating about Quaid's intentions.
Five minutes passed quickly, but Mr. Luca didn't emerge.
They waited a while longer before the two men in the cabin finally came out together.
They left, one on each side.
The three of them, still harboring unsatisfied gossip, went back inside to continue their work.
Of course, as the culprit, Mr. Luca's performance was entirely an act.
...
That afternoon, around 2:30 PM.
In the luxurious villa of Earl Hall in Queens.
The middle-aged, overweight Earl Hall returned home, and the first thing he did was ask the servants what his beloved daughter was doing.
"Miss Audrey is in her study, sir."
Earl Hall nodded slightly, then stopped abruptly after taking three steps, instructing,
"Go immediately to the butler and have him select a suitable gift for the young lady from the treasury."
"Deliver it to the lounge,
and preferably quickly." A valet acknowledged the order, bowed, and quickly turned to leave.
Earl Hall resumed his steps, heading towards the lounge, and instructed, "Bring afternoon tea earlier, also to the lounge."
As he did so, he reached for the buttons of his coat, trying to make himself more comfortable.
His personal valet remained by Earl Hall's side.
He gestured with his eyes to a maid beside him to inform the kitchen, while quickly stepping forward to help the Earl undress, then placing the coat on his arm. In
the lounge
, shortly after Earl Hall sat down, a dutiful maid brought him tea and dessert.
Earl Hall ate while casually flipping through today's *Backlund Morning Post*.
A moment later, the butler hurried in, placing an exquisite gift box before the Earl.
"Sir, the gift has been chosen; it's a gold armlet from the ancient Bailang Empire," the butler said. "However, it's just an ordinary piece of men's jewelry. You might need to give it a mysterious owner."
Earl Hall nodded, a smile playing on his lips. "Well done."
"And what suggestions do you have for this 'mysterious owner'?"
The butler had clearly prepared an answer for this question. "Folklore says that the god of death worshipped in the ancient Bailang Empire has a son who holds the title of 'Death Archon.'"
"Very good."
Earl Hall put down his newspaper and asked for confirmation, "Is she still in her study?"
"Yes, sir."
The Earl nodded, rose, and left, his personal valet following behind with the gift box.
...
The study.
This was Miss Audrey Hall's private study, filled with various books that were barely related to the occult—books far removed from true occult texts.
Fifteen-year-old Miss Audrey was engrossed in reading a newly acquired "mystical book."
Her personal maid, Anne, stood in the doorway, a large golden retriever lying at her feet.
Anne noticed the Earl approaching with his male servant and quickly opened the door to announce to her mistress, "Miss, the Earl is here."
Audrey looked up from her book just as her father entered. She smiled sweetly and asked, "Father, what brings you here?"
"Can't I come to see you if I don't have something to say?" Earl Hall smiled gently. "Or have I disturbed you?"
"How could I?"
Audrey took a few steps forward, took the Earl's arm, and pulled him to sit at the desk, saying in a coquettish tone, "Father, you're usually so busy, you rarely come to see me in the afternoon."
The Count patted Audrey's fair arm and said,
"I've come specifically to give you a gift. Look, a mysterious treasure, originating from the Death God's child of the ancient Bailang Empire."
As the Count entered, the male servant had already handed the gift box to the maid, Anne. Following the Count's words, Anne presented the box to Audrey.
Audrey cheered, lightly pulling the ribbon on the box and opening it on the spot.
"Ah? A men's armband."
Her voice sounded somewhat disdainful. "Father, is it really an extraordinary item? It doesn't look like one at all."
"Perhaps it only reveals its extraordinary nature when accompanied by a special ceremony?"
the Count replied easily, his words carrying a hint of enticement. "You're so clever; I think you can definitely solve this mystery."
"Alright, another sealed treasure." Audrey puffed out her cheeks, looking playful and adorable.
At this moment, Count Hall seized the opportunity and asked,
"Audrey, I'd like to receive a gift from you today. Is that alright?"Hearing her father's request, Audrey tilted her head slightly, her bright green eyes darting around thoughtfully.
Soon, she smiled and asked, "Father, what kind of gift do you want?"
"A mirror, an ancient bronze mirror with cracked surfaces," Earl Hall revealed his true purpose.
"Oh, I remember it," Audrey added with a smile, "You said it was a treasure of the Black Emperor of the ancient Solomon Empire."
The Earl nodded, "That's right, it's that one."
"No!"
Audrey's smile suddenly blossomed, like a brilliant golden chrysanthemum. "I knew you had ulterior motives, Father! Now I know, that bronze mirror must be a truly extraordinary object."
"No, no, anything else is fine, just not this!"
Audrey paced excitedly, muttering to herself, completely absorbed in imagining breaking the mirror's seal.
Earl Hall looked at his innocent and adorable daughter, feeling somewhat helpless.
If he could, he would never let her suffer even the slightest injustice, but this time, it was truly impossible. His Majesty the King personally ordered everyone to cooperate fully, and he was no exception.
He sighed, waved away two servants, and then shattered her illusion:
"Audrey, to tell you the truth, that bronze mirror is one of the items His Majesty the King requested. We have no other choice."
"Really?" The girl snapped out of her reverie, feeling quite surprised. "But why, why would His Majesty suddenly mention my item?"
The Earl stepped forward and ruffled the girl's long golden hair, saying softly,
"Why would I lie to you?"
"His Majesty didn't mention your item; he's looking for a special mirror."
"Not only us, but all the nobles, large and small, in Backlund have received orders to send any extraordinary mirror-like items they possess to MI9 for inspection."
Audrey looked up at her father and pressed, "And then? Will they force a trade?"
"No details," the Earl shook his head, "but His Majesty guarantees, with the royal family's reputation, that unless that special mirror is found, all items will be returned to their rightful owners."
"What kind of mirror are they looking for?" the girl continued to ask.
"I don't know. I suspect even His Majesty the King, who issued the order, doesn't know for sure. He just knows it's special."
The Earl rested his chin on his hand, stroking his meticulously manicured mustache, and analyzed, "Judging from the order, His Majesty doesn't seem confident in finding such a mirror. It's like he's just trying his best."
"Alright then," Audrey said, somewhat dejectedly, "I'll have Anne find the bronze mirror later."
The Earl had achieved his goal. Before leaving, he softly said "I'm sorry" to Audrey.
…
Red-haired Kirk felt uneasy.
As his brothers, who had been asking around, returned with answers, he pieced together the general sequence of events:
the mysterious intruder had probably been lurking outside the union building for a long time, until around nine o'clock, when the two part-time accountants left, giving him an opportunity to enter through a second-floor window.
Afterward, he took a dagger from the storeroom, climbed outside through the ventilation window at the corner of the stairs, grabbed the gas pipe to reach the balcony of the chairman's office, and pried open the door.
The intruder's target was clear: the important commission letter the boss had mentioned. Well, during the search, he also took 80 pounds in cash.
Damn it!
Those two accountants returning from their break could have spotted him, they were so close!
Finally, the intruder left after the two accountants around 10:30.
Kirk began to analyze his mistakes:
from the moment he entered until he left, the lookouts only heard some faint, possibly relevant sounds, and
found nothing. On the contrary, the two outsiders almost discovered the intruder. That was the biggest mistake.
Besides, the routine checks were practically non-existent; they didn't even notice such a glaring flaw as the half-open door.
Kirk felt a chill run down his spine.
The deeper he thought about it, the more he realized how crude and flawed his arrangements were; they looked plausible, but were actually full of loopholes.
He came up with some improvement measures and then went to see his boss.
To his surprise, after reporting the situation, he wasn't scolded or beaten anymore; instead, his boss even gave him a pep talk, patting him on the shoulder. "
His boss still trusts me!"
Yes, that's right, his boss was just too angry that morning.
In a better mood, he gathered a few of his brothers and followed their leader to the Boiling Blood Bar on Green Road.
The Boiling Blood Bar had a different layout.
Its size was comparable to the Workers' Union Tavern, but the actual drinking area was only about the size of the Brave Ones Bar. This was because it had set up a casino in half of the space.
"Stay together, wait for me to come back. You can drink, but no gambling."
The group entered the bar, and the leader left this order before proceeding alone. Kirk and his brothers occupied a small table, keeping a close watch on the bar entrance.
The leader made his way deeper into the bar and soon arrived at the chip counter, uttering the code:
"4 pence for 50 glasses."
This came from a sign hanging near the entrance: "Today's Special: South Wales Beer, 4 pence for 50 glasses, first come, first served."
The waiter nodded and opened the door to the "VIP entrance" next to him.
The club president took the black cloak handed to him by the waiter, put it on after entering, and walked up the dimly lit, narrow corridor, quickly arriving at the second floor of the bar—or more accurately, the attic, only larger and taller than a typical attic.
Aside from the corners being too low to stand in, the attic was also larger than the bar area below.
Apart from a few wooden chairs haphazardly piled in the corners, there was almost no other furnishings in the attic.
In this large space, there were only a dozen or so people wearing cloaks like him, some standing, some sitting, each occupying a small area, some with strange objects in front of them.
The club president ignored them, and after a brief observation, he identified his target—the person sitting in a chair, with a stack of papers on another chair next to him.
He walked straight up to the man and, in a low voice, demanded,
"Your organization has problems! My contract was stolen by the target!"
His question was met with a chuckle:
"Ha, impossible."
"The stolen contract is your problem, it has nothing to do with us."
"We only recognize contracts, not people. Hmph, without a contract, how can you prove you're our client?"
Upon hearing this, the guild leader's face darkened, and he couldn't help but press, "Then what about my commission?!"
"It's simple. If no one cancels the contract, it remains valid, and the mission will proceed as planned."
Although the cloaked figure had mentioned the possibility that the guild leader wasn't a client, he still gave the answer in a relaxed tone.
The guild leader's expression changed again. "You mean, the person who received the contract can come here to cancel the mission?"
"Of course, that's a clause stipulated in the contract."
The cloaked figure explained slowly, "After all, our organization values its reputation highly and won't voluntarily breach contracts."