"Kaping?" Ian, who was holding a shabby cloth bag tightly with both hands and dragging his ill-fitting coat to the ground, was stunned for a moment. It took him a while to recover, his voice was lowered and his tone became stiff.
"He is a well-known human trafficker in the East District. He often kidnaps pretty good-looking female workers, and also does some debt collection and loan lending. However, he seems to have become a big shot recently. Not only did he move out of the East District, but all the bits and pieces that he used to have
The properties are almost sold out.”
There was obvious solemnity in his eyes, and the corners of his mouth curled up.
"Detective Zerrell has had contact with his men before. Their business is very extensive, and they seem to have connections with many big names in Backlund, but the specific methods are not clear."
He is indeed a human trafficker. With this kind of background, no wonder Mike can't even muster the courage to report... The corners of Klein's mouth slowly raised and his eyes were half-squinted.
A former gangster with a background and running various gray industries, if he wanted to, Mike's reports and reports would not even get out of Silver Casino and newspapers.
Klein raised his arm and waved casually.
The boss, who had been busy in the coffee shop, quickly came over, looking like he was overworked, and settled the bill neatly.
"Can you give me a copy of today's Daily Observer?" Klein put the change on the noteboard in the boss's hand and asked casually.
The boss, with bloodshot eyes and a pair of brown eyes hidden behind glasses, nodded slowly, returned to the small coffee table separated by wooden boards, and took out a newspaper with some oil stains.
He felt guilty and his voice was hoarse as he met Klein's strangely probing gaze.
"One penny."
Money addict... With a pair of gold-rimmed glasses on his nose and neat clothes, he looked like a good gentleman. Klein couldn't help but roll his eyes, put on a smile at the corner of his mouth, and calmly handed out a penny.
The coins were pushed onto the greasier table.
The boss with a sparse head took the coin expressionlessly and threw the oil-stained second-hand newspaper on the dining table casually, with no intention of clearing away the dishes before Klein left.
Klein, whose mouth twitched slightly, reluctantly picked up the newspaper, turned his eyes, and happened to see Ian sitting opposite, looking like he wanted to laugh but was holding back.
An extraordinary person with a powerful weapon that can split a wooden wall in one hand is actually helpless against such a small person.
I think Detective Zerrell always acted aloof.
However, upon noticing Klein's gaze, he quickly suppressed the smile that he hadn't even noticed and became serious again.
Klein, who was holding the newspaper in his hand, smiled and shook his head, shrugging his shoulders slightly, which did not fit his current image.
Yes, this is what a child should be like... When he thought of Ian's various deeds before, and compared it with his subconscious smile just now, he felt sad for no reason.
Wow.
The newspaper, still smelling of ink and mixed with the smell of strong coffee, was slowly turned in Klein's hands.
He directly skipped the advertisements and splicing sections and read the headlines directly.
Sure enough, the Crazy Ripper has another case, and this should be the unlucky Miss Siebel...
The rotten male corpse appears again?
This time we were not near Hope Road, but still within the Joe Wood area. Silveras Field announced that it would strengthen patrols in this area...
Oh, this is a new face. Grisha Magath, the president of "Daily Observer", died in an empty warehouse in the St. George District...
Klein, who was about to turn over the newspaper, suddenly froze in place and turned it over slowly.
He scanned the news over and over again, his mouth opening wider and wider.
If he remembered correctly, this newspaper seemed to be the "Daily Observer"...
Sure enough, after the title and introduction of the case, a small section was dedicated to publish the eulogy written by the editor-in-chief of the newspaper.
The president, who took office together with the new prime minister, seemed to have been kidnapped and killed by an unknown gang. At the same time, some of his private collections were also missing.
But strangely, there were no obvious signs of a fight in the president's office. It was as if the president had a sudden heart attack while admiring the collection, fell to the ground, and was picked up by someone squatting nearby.
Moreover, the reason why he was found dead was because of a notice sent directly to Silveras Field, signed by the Aurora Society.
"The body has not been found so far. Could it be that the president has entered the stomach of an Aurora Society member..."
Klein muttered softly, causing Ian, who was sitting opposite and remained silent, to ask:
"Mr. Moriarty, what did you say?"
"No, it's nothing." Klein slowly put down the newspaper, picked up his cane, and motioned for Ian to leave separately.
He still looked relaxed and confident, with no waves in his ice-blue eyes.
It wasn't until he saw Ian entering the entrance of the steam subway platform that his hidden emotions slowly crept onto his face, and his eyes were full of doubts.
"Although the Aurora Society does not need a reason to do things, what are they doing by kidnapping a newspaper president with a political background?"
With thoughts racing in his mind, he raised his arm and found a hired carriage on the side of the road.
Instead of guessing, it's better to write and ask Mike. Their newspaper office should be in chaos today.
............
"So until now, the body of President Magath has not been found?" After receiving the news, Dunn hurried to the Heart of Machinery stronghold and got straight to the point. He saw that the dark circles under his eyes were getting worse and his hair was not as usual and became very messy.
Carlson asked in a deep voice.
He doesn't believe that Aurora killed Magath!
Thinking of the many scary Southern Continent "arts" in his office, Dunn was more willing to believe that the president was retaliated by extreme extraordinary people from the Southern Continent.
If it were the Aurora Society, maybe Magath's body would be easier to find and would have been posted in every corner of the office... Looking at Carlson's haggard look, Dunn closed his mouth and said
I added in my heart.
Carlson, who had withered hair, pressed the hair on his head and looked slightly pale.
"We have divined the whereabouts of Magath, but found nothing. If it is an extraordinary person under the Southern Continent's Spiritual Religion Group, it is impossible to leave no trace."
As a senior official Beyonder and someone who has seen those "collections", he also considered other forces.
"Are divination methods reliable?" Dunn recalled what he had seen and subconsciously asked.
Suddenly, Carlson's tired eyes lit up and his tone became excited.
"Of course it works, but I think we can confirm it again. I will apply as captain."
"Hey, Evans, do you want to try it yourself?"
Yesterday, Captain Ikanser was in a bad state of mind when handling the extraordinary incident. He took the initiative to ask Ying to take charge of questioning Arrods, and then he was shot to death.
He looked at this rich boy who wore glasses, had good looks, had a strong bookish air, and showed the charm of a mature man in his movements, and the corners of his mouth turned up.
I wonder what the secret is in his heart?
Feeling strange, Dunn instinctively did not continue along with the other party's topic. Instead, he paused and said in a serious tone:
"I am just an informant for the Heart of Machinery. I should not be qualified to touch your sealed artifacts."
"Well, this sealed object is quite special. Its negative effects will not endanger your safety. The captain should also agree with my idea." Carlson pushed up the thick glasses on the bridge of his nose and tried his best to control the excitement in his voice.
.
"What are you talking about?"
With anticipation in his eyes, Carlson froze on the spot and turned back.
Ikonser, whose hair was equally messy, looked at him and Dunn strangely, and couldn't help but hold the silver mirror he was holding carefully in his hand tighter.
Dunn's eyes were attracted to the mirror, and with a glance from the corner of his eye, he found that Carlson, who had been secretly excited just now, was trembling. He looked at the mirror in fear, his face ashen.
............
Hvin Rambis, who had light blue eyes and neat clothes, stretched his body on the slowly rocking easy chair, looking into the distance with his peaceful and kind eyes, vaguely seeming to be observing Edessa who was coaxing the girl.
Prince Gram.
"I didn't expect you to come to me. Those people from MI9 didn't make things difficult for you, right?"
As he spoke, he slowly turned around, as if he was really a kind old man, and became concerned about the man who suddenly appeared next to him.
Ince Zangwill, who had a profound face, features like classical sculptures, and no wrinkles, looked coldly, took a few steps back, sat cautiously on a wooden bench nearby, and opened his clenched right hand.
"You are more authoritative on some professional matters."
He did not answer Hwin's question. He only looked at the belly of the old man in front of him with one of his intact glasses and refused to lift it.
Hwen, who was emotionally restrained and maintained the most basic demeanor of an "audience" at all times, glanced at the ordinary quill in Zangwill's hand, his eyes unperturbed.
0-08, who was still struggling, suddenly stopped moving, as if he had lost all vitality, and lay quietly in Zangwill's palm, no longer showing his extraordinary appearance.
Hwin, who was essentially Angelweed, sat up straight and relaxed his body.
But somewhere deep in the subconscious ocean that Ince Zangwill couldn't see, the giant dragon entrenched on a huge cross-shaped stone platform was faintly about to raise its slender neck.
Suddenly, He stopped moving and became docile again.
Beside Him, an ordinary priest with a beard closed his eyes tightly, and his right hand was covered with thick gray-white dragon scales. He seemed not to be afraid of this huge and majestic dragon.
The abdominal wound was difficult to heal. The young man huddled under the stone platform raised the corners of his mouth as if watching the fun, but there was no smile in his eyes.
Around him, groups of extremely thin gray mist kept lingering, and spiritual power poured out from history, but it only kept the wound on his abdomen from spreading further, without showing any intention of helping him recover.
The two ancient gods of the past are now like two dogs tied to different chains, humblely begging for survival.
In the Red Rose Manor, Zangwill, who had been silent all this time, finally spoke out his purpose, his voice hoarse.
"I want to ask for help. Please help me suppress 0-08."
Hwen, who was sitting opposite him, smiled, his eyes pure.