Chapter 29: Bakerland

Chapter Twenty-NineBakerland

Early Tuesday morning, Klein woke naturally and prepared himself two slices of toast, a pat of butter, a portion of bacon, and a cup of coffee. He ate breakfast leisurely while reading the newspapers.

With the terrifying charm Words of Filth in his possession, he felt considerably more at ease. He was no longer as taut and tense as before.

Rustle. Klein finished flipping through the Backlund Post, picked up the Tussock Times, and on the second page saw a news item:

“At two o’clock this morning, an intense gunfight occurred in Redbrick Lane in the East Borough. According to the police, this may involve a clash between two gangs, one of which is the infamous Zmanger gang.”

The Zmanger gang… Redbrick Lane in the East Borough…

A thought suddenly rose in Klein’s mind. He left the dining table and fetched his map of Backlund.

With only a glance, he discovered that Redbrick Lane was not far from White Rum Street, and Ian Wright had once appeared at the telegraph office on White Rum Street.

Was Redbrick Lane Ian Wright’s hiding place? Was the fierce conflict between the military’s special department and Intis intelligence personnel? I wonder what the result was…

Klein speared the last piece of bacon with his fork, placed it in his mouth, and slowly chewed.

Only yesterday morning had he “told” both sides the situation he had divined, and that very night they had locked onto Ian’s location. Their efficiency truly could not be called low.

After drinking a mouthful of coffee, Klein set down the newspaper and sank into thought.

Suddenly, he heard the doorbell ring with dinging, clanging echoes.

“Who is it?”

Klein wiped his mouth with a napkin and walked toward the door in puzzlement.

A new commission? These past few days, because of the Intis ambassador’s matter, I have been running around outside. I wonder how many commissions I missed, how many potential clients I lost… That is simply wasting my advertisement money… If this continues, my finances will become tight…

A whole string of thoughts flashed through Klein’s mind as he reached out and opened the door.

Two ladies stood outside. One was Madam Sammer, wearing morning dress and looking extremely formal. Her face was exquisitely made up, appearing even more lovely than at home, with no sign at all that she was already around thirty. The other wore a wide-brimmed hat with a fine black veil hanging down, and her dress was darker in color and rather full.

“Detective Moriarty, I have a friend who hopes to obtain your help.”

Stelyn Sammer held a gauze hat in one hand. Her blue eyes carried not the slightest smile.

“Please come in.”

Klein gestured toward the living room area. Taking advantage of the turn, he buttoned the top button of his shirt and straightened his black waistcoat.

Stelyn nodded lightly and said no more. She led the lady veiled in black into the room.

She was extremely familiar with the place. Without needing Klein’s reminder, she easily found the sofa and sat down.

Klein had intended to ask the question directly, but after thinking of Stelyn Sammer’s usual style, he smiled and asked instead, “Coffee, or black tea?”

In his eyes, Madam Sammer was a lady who pursued quality of life and needed a sense of superiority in every detail.

“No need,” the other lady said, removing the wide-brimmed hat with the fine black veil.

Her individual features were not bad, but once assembled together, they somehow disappointed the eye. In addition, her cheekbones were too high, making her appear somewhat older than her true age.

A little anger, a little sorrow, a little hesitation, a little fear…

Klein read the lady’s emotions.

This was not because he had suddenly acquired the abilities of a Spectator, but because the other party displayed them far too clearly.

“Yes. Neither coffee nor black tea can solve this matter.”

Stelyn imitated a posture she had seen in magazines, doing her best to sit with a little more elegance and…