Maybe the reporter from Backlund is not completely nonsense. The security in the East District and Backlund Bridge area does need to be strengthened... Due to his professional habits, Klein accidentally glanced at the newspaper in Mr. Aigron's hand, and thoughts suddenly came to his mind.
The muscles next to the bridge of the nose twitched inconspicuously.
"Oh, thank you for your suggestion." The Sherlock Moriarty he played seemed to notice the displeasure of the apartment manager in front of him. He smiled awkwardly and thanked him, hiding his embarrassment, and escaped from the apartment quickly.
door.
In fact, judging from the answer just given by Aiglon Crosong, although he really hated this ruined scholar who made too many demands and was coy, he did not just deal with it casually because of this, but gave a very pertinent answer.
appropriate answer.
Backlund's Jorwood District is mostly a middle-class residential choice, with numerous small companies and numerous residences. In order to solve the food problem of most companies, many independent restaurants with good reputations and relatively fair prices have opened in Jorwood District.
Nearby, we contracted the company's lunch delivery business.
Moreover, the subway line in the Jowood District is connected to the Backlund Bridge District, so the transportation is relatively convenient, and the security is definitely better than that near the Tusok River where gang conflicts often occur. It is indeed a good choice for a night out to eat.
Klein, who had previously done relevant research on the steam train, agreed very much with Administrator Aiglon's suggestion. Planning to settle down in Backlund first, he decided on his dinner place without hesitation.
Following the route written down on the carriage, we turned left and right and arrived at the sunken entrance of the steam subway.
Backlund's unique steam subway has been in existence for twenty-five years, but even so, at this time when most workers are off work, Klein still does not feel as crowded as the train platform, with only a few gentlemen lining up.
In front of him, waiting to buy tickets.
"Perhaps real workers will still not choose this 'luxury' way of travel."
Due to the inefficiency of manual ticket sales, even though the crowds were sparse, Klein still waited for two minutes before he saw the conductor with beautiful blond hair, his head lowered.
She skillfully pulled out a blank bill and pointed upward casually, indicating to Klein to make his own choice based on the information on the wooden sign.
"The peak period here mainly refers to the commuting time of office crowds..."
"Also, really wealthy people will always keep a carriage. Only employees in various companies in the Jowood and Hillston districts need this relatively affordable and convenient transportation method..."
The steam subway is really a big thing that I have never seen on Earth. Such a sophisticated thing should be very popular with Melissa... Klein, who was a little arrogant, suddenly stopped smiling, and then smiled even more.
Huanlan, while taking out his change, lowered his head and said to the conductor:
"Second class seat, thank you."
Not only is sarcasm and hidden sadness the true meaning of "Joker," but so is politeness.
Klein, who took the ticket smoothly, turned slightly and squeezed through the not-so-wide entrance. He continued to go down according to the signs on the ground, followed the stairs to the deeper platform, and leaned to a position close to the corner.
The light yellow smoke here is thicker, and the smell is far more unpleasant than on the ground. It almost affects the passengers' senses. The pungent smell and blurred vision make Klein can't help but doubt the safety of this place.
Boom, boom, boom!
As a burst of heavy footsteps approached from far away, Klein's inspiration moved slightly, and a blurry picture was outlined in his mind.
Someone is heading straight towards him!
Following the "Joker's" intuition, Klein turned his waist sharply, quickly moved his body out of the way, tilted his neck to the right, and instantly locked onto the possible target.
Through the cover of the light yellow mist, he probably saw a thin, low figure avoiding the obstruction of several tall men wearing black windbreakers. He pressed the dome hat on his head with one hand and shrank his body like a mouse.
, with a flexible movement, he got into the small shadow behind Klein.
What the hell!
Having experienced several coincidences in Tingen City and seeing the power of 0-08, Klein was instinctively aware of such emergencies and subconsciously wanted to react.
But feeling the rapid and disordered breathing behind him, and glancing at the tall men with fierce expressions who were breathing heavily, Klein sighed secretly, spread his legs imperceptibly, and took advantage of the slightly wider muscles on his body.
The black double-breasted coat blocked the front of the person behind him like a wall.
"Where's that kid?" The tall man in charge glanced sharply at everyone around him. Regardless of others' expressions of fear, he turned his head roughly and questioned his men who were also looking for the target.
The other men were roared violently, and they seemed a little scared and did not dare to answer. They could only continue to pant like a few bulls and continue to hit left and right on this narrow platform.
At this time, Klein had secretly raised his teeth, switched to his spiritual vision state, and saw clearly these tall men in black trench coats and top hats.
Their skin is often chapped, their complexions are relatively dark, and their muscular bodies coupled with deeper eye sockets give people a natural sense of ferocity.
Plateau people? Or mixed race?
Klein, who had heard a little bit about these notorious warlike peoples during his days as a Nighthawk, suddenly became nervous. The hand inserted in his left pocket couldn't help but hold down the gray mist he had brought with him unintentionally, but he survived.
, one of the few "sleep" charms in stock.
He was not only on guard against these plateau people dressed up as suspected gangsters, but also on guard against the short man hiding in the shadows behind him at the moment, the target of these ferocious villains!
I shouldn't be meddling in other people's business... Klein tried his best to control his gaze and expression, maintaining a reasonable nervousness, while calculating the distance of one of the men who was carefully examining each passenger.
How many steps did he have left? His fingers pressed harder on the "Sleep" charm, ready to trigger it at any time.
Woohoo!
Accompanied by a burst of pungent steam, the huge, winding steam locomotive cut through the silence with its thunderous whistle.
A huge steam locomotive broke through the oppressive atmosphere created by the dim gas lights on both sides of the tunnel with majestic power, and stopped with a clang.
At this moment, Klein's inspiration was very sensitive to capture the movement coming from behind him. The man who was evading tracking took advantage of the cover of the steam spray and the noise of metal friction to decisively get into the car door.
As if he noticed something out of the corner of his eye, the plateau man who had just been searching passengers one by one quickly walked up to Klein. He glanced disdainfully at "Sherlock" who looked mature but had a very frail physique.
"Moriarty", his eyeballs circled up and down, with a hint of interrogation.
Klein didn't wait for the other party to ask questions. He seemed to be frightened. He gave a fawning smile with a stiff expression. He timidly took out his left hand from his pocket, followed the passengers who got on the bus with his cane, and accepted it shakily.
Ticket checking by flight attendants.
Following the guidance of the flight attendant, he calmly sat down in his second-class seat. His body was still shaking, but there was no trace of panic in his eyes. Instead, he calmly observed through the reflection of the glass with his peripheral vision.
The situation behind you.
Those plateau people didn't get on the bus. Did they give up tracking that person?
After confirming the current situation, Klein instantly returned to normal. He straightened his upper body and moved his joints comfortably, without any trace of what he had just seen.
Bang, bang, bang...
More than a minute later, with the sound of the whistle, the carriage door closed, and the steam locomotive began to accelerate again.
Klein, whose seat is adjacent to the aisle, only planned to have dinner when he went out, so he did not buy any newspapers. He could only close his eyes and rest silently against the cold seat.
Suddenly, his spirit moved slightly, and when he opened his eyes, he saw a thin boy with a green face walking toward him tiredly, holding on to an old coat that obviously didn't fit him.
His head was buried very low, and only a few strands of messy hair could be seen, as well as a vaguely angular jawline.
The boy, who looked to be only fifteen or sixteen years old, was holding his worn-out satchel in his hand. He faced the scrutinizing gaze in front of him and moved to the edge of the aisle without much attention. He was only more than one meter away from the second-class seat where Klein was sitting.
"Thank you for helping me." Quite unexpectedly, the big boy suddenly raised his head and thanked Klein very seriously, his tired red eyes full of seriousness.
Klein, who had already thought of various countermeasures in his mind, was suddenly startled. Looking at the other party's green face and bright red eyes, the corners of his originally tightly pursed lips were raised into a bright smile.
"You're welcome, it's just a little effort."
Although he didn't know the specific reason why he was hunted down, he had not suffered any losses, so Klein was very willing to give this child, who was not much older than his sister, a smile.
The big boy looked at the bright smile in front of him and was suddenly stunned for a moment. Then the corners of his mouth trembled unnaturally, and he squeezed out a very unnatural smile.
Immediately, the boy lowered his head suddenly, lowered his yarmulke as before, and passed by Klein as if he was running away.
A child with a story... I have seen many former Mr. Nighthawks. He muttered silently, appropriately diverted his attention, and replenished his already somewhat sluggish spirit.
...
In a position in the third-class carriage, Zerrier Victor Lee felt a sudden shadow appearing in front of him, and asked aloud without raising his head:
"Did you confirm the identity of that person just now?"
"It should be just an ordinary person. The item you gave me didn't react." The big boy who had just thanked Klein barely moved his lips. He answered his employer's question very coldly in a voice just enough for the two of them to hear.
question.
Detective Zerrell, who was dressed incompatibly with the passengers around him, put away the map on his lap, folded it several times, and stretched his somewhat stiff neck.
He is very satisfied with his favorite "partner", or "dog".
This child's early experiences have trained him to have a calm attitude when dealing with situations, which is far more useful than those wastes in the East District who can only do petty thefts.
"Ian, you have to know that this mission is very important, not only to me, but also to you." Zerrell looked into the bright red eyes of the big boy in front of him and spoke in a gentle voice, "For me,
I can return home gloriously, and even be given the reward of being escorted all the way to Sequence Five, and become a real colonel. And for you, this may be your best chance to get a stable life and become a real Northern Continental person. I miss you.
You should understand the importance of this."
"As long as the 'documents' can be obtained smoothly, you can become my adjutant in the future and become a Fusac officer."
This naked temptation seemed to arouse Ian's interest, and the light in his eyes flashed.
He nodded calmly, and then followed the usual rules and silently walked away from his employer and walked to the back of the carriage, the fatigue on his face becoming more obvious.
.............
Dunn, who had changed his dressing habits and was wearing a maroon wool coat, looked around at the townhouses in front of him. After confirming that the information in the newspaper was correct, he walked to the wooden door with the number 17 engraved on it.
forward.
As he raised his hand to ring the doorbell, a small cuckoo made of gears and colored iron pieces emerged from the protrusion on the door, turning its neck made of precision parts, nodding its head, cuckoo cuckoo
cried.
He observed this novel gadget with slight interest, and a light flashed in his dark red eyes.
Ten seconds later, the dark brown door was opened, and a relatively professional-looking maid looked at Dunn with some caution and said:
"Excuse me, what can I do for you?"
Dunn, who has extensive experience in the Nighthawks, has a gentle smile and a mellow voice:
"I saw Mrs. Summer's advertisement for renting a house in the newspaper. It shouldn't be rented out yet, right?"
After that, he also raised the newspaper in Yang's hand to make his statement even more convincing.
"No, please wait a moment." The maid wrapped in a long black and white skirt politely bent down, then half-closed the door, and the sound of footsteps gradually became quieter.
Soon, the maid who had hurriedly informed the hostess returned again, opened the door and bowed to Dunn again, then took his suitcase and gentleman's staff and hung them in a free space in the hall.
Before Dunn actually entered the room, just staying in the foyer, he smelled a floral fragrance that was completely different from the pungent smell outside. It was light and pleasant, and he could clearly feel the seriousness of the owner here.
Under the heat wave, he took off his woolen coat after some deliberation, and handed the coat with a cold feeling to the maid behind him. He glanced around and observed the interior layout of No. 17 Minsk Street.
The layout of the houses in a townhouse is basically the same, which is common sense to every renter in Loen.
However, he only took a few glances when the hostess of this house had already walked down from the second floor, shaking a silver-inlaid feather fan in her hand and walking gracefully.
She seemed to have just dressed up. The thin long skirt fit her snow-white neck, and the light yellow ruffles matched her delicate appearance, making people intuitively feel how decent she was.
"Hello, Mrs. Summer." Dunn didn't take a second look at this beautiful blonde woman in her thirties, but calmly put her hand on her chest and saluted.
The hostess passed by Dunn's face. She was a little surprised, but she still smiled reservedly:
"Good evening, we can go to the living room and talk slowly. Would you like tea or coffee?"