Several carriages, without obvious markings but far from low-key in size and specifications, lined up in front of the restaurant.
When Wayne went downstairs, he hadn't even left the stairwell before he heard the sounds of a physical altercation outside, which seemed to be a one-sided beating, executed with considerable swiftness and precision.
He held his revolver in his hand, scanning the area with a minimalist view.
The Agents in the hall had already formed two lines inside the main door, arranging themselves by height, while Lina and Emma were huddled by a window, watching the commotion.
Hmm… It looks like the one getting beaten isn't one of ours?
He tucked the pistol back into his underarm holster, and Wayne's head appeared above the two blonde heads, one large and one small. Following their gaze, he peered outside and asked, “What’s going on now?”
Lina didn't even turn her head. “Judging by the display, it must be some important figure from the Holy Spirit Church. Their subordinates are conducting a security sweep. I don't think they're enemies, so I told everyone to line up and welcome them. We can't let the Detective Agency look unprofessional at a time like this.”
“Then why are Ryan and the others outside?” Wayne asked.
“Those poor guys on the ground just picked the wrong time. I heard they’ve been causing trouble at the bar, and they came back again just now. Ryan originally went out to impress Molly, but those guys didn’t even get to smash many things before they were taken care of by the clear-out crew.”
The restaurant's location was quite good, situated at the corner of a street and a wide alley. A slight turn into the alley led to the back door, convenient for loading and unloading goods.
At this moment, Ryan, along with Sanders and Liam, and the freckled girl recently hired at the bar, were also awkwardly standing outside the window.
Noticing Wayne's gaze, Liam reflexively hid the bandaged wooden stick he was holding behind his back.
Next to them were several people Wayne didn't recognize, who had already been apprehended. They were all lying in a neat row in the alley, hands clasped behind their heads.
The people who had apprehended these guys were also unfamiliar faces, but Wayne had seen their uniforms before—primarily black with belted waists. Wayne first saw this type of uniform in Blackstone Town, worn by Father Tywin and his subordinates.
People from the Church… Could it really be Father Tywin who came? Or perhaps Luce Bolton, who works under him?
That shouldn't be the case. Isn't Luce Bolton in charge of Kankakee’ Exorcism Department? Can such positions be transferred between archdioceses?
The scene was quickly brought under control. The personnel outside, dressed in black belted uniforms, swiftly took up various security positions around the restaurant.
They didn't expel the Detective Agency members, but they remained stern-faced.
Wayne quickly tidied his appearance and walked to the position directly opposite the main door in the hall. He watched a stern-faced uniformed young man respectfully open the door of the carriage, which clearly held an important figure.
Then, a bald, white-haired man with a “good-natured” expression stepped out of the carriage…
Wayne’s expression almost faltered.
No, why is it Father Tyrrell who came out? You weren't like this before…
But the Agents had already lined up, and Wayne composed himself, walking formally from the middle of the line to greet him. “Welcome, Your Eminence.”
Father Tyrrell also maintained the decorum of a formal visit, nodding slightly. “Do you have a suitable place here for a private conversation?”
…
Along the corridor on the second floor of the restaurant, a person stood at regular intervals, each with their chest out, head held high, and hands behind their back, looking as serious as could be.
Inside the closed room, the situation was a bit out of sync with the solemn atmosphere outside. Wayne almost regretted not making his bed after getting up, as the room now looked a bit messy, with no place for anyone to sit.
After a brief moment of surprise, Wayne quickly grasped the situation. He recalled the news he had hastily scanned in the newspaper earlier: Father Bazzini had conspired and rebelled, and Bishop Corleone was still in a coma.
Given the current circumstances, Father Tyrrell should now be considered the “first in line” to be the Bishop of Virginia. He had already surpassed the “peak of the half-step bishop, grand completion” realm, and at least until the Bishop's election was formally completed, he was a figure of “acting Bishop” level.
However, because he had a slight understanding of Father Tyrrell before, he was still testing the waters, trying to see if Father Tyrrell would still be as easy to talk to as before. “These people outside look a bit unfamiliar. Were they transferred from another diocese?”
After entering the room, Father Tyrrell no longer seemed as “good-natured” as usual. Fortunately, he still answered Wayne's question:
“They are the guard corps that report directly to the Diocesan Bishop, similar in function to the Holy See’s ‘Red Gloves,’ and their equipment is quite similar. According to the direct orders given by Bishop Corleone himself, as of this morning, their command has been transferred to me.”
Father Tyrrell ignored the mess in the room, gazing out the window as if admiring the scenery while he spoke.
Wayne immediately understood after hearing this and behaved himself. “How is His Grace the Bishop doing now?”
Father Tyrrell did not beat around the bush: “The news for the next two days will be ‘still in a coma.’ The announcement of his death is currently planned for three days from now.”
Hiss… Wayne’s mind suddenly jolted. “Do you have any tasks you need me to complete?”
This case will be difficult to investigate. Please don't actually hand it over to me…
Father Tyrrell looked back at Wayne, his gaze seemingly inadvertently sweeping over the oil painting near the wall.
“The Bishop’s guard corps is usually divided into two parts. One part is always subordinate to the Cathedral; those you just saw are from that part. The other part is formed and arranged by each Bishop independently. Normally, this also requires handover or registration.”
He paused slightly. “Do you know where they went?”
Wayne honestly shook his head, waiting for Father Tyrrell to tell him the answer.
Silence fell over the room for a moment. Father Tyrrell’s face seemed expressionless, and then Wayne quickly realized,
Wait a minute, you don’t think I know, do you?! How could I possibly know such high-level inside information?
Unfortunately, before Wayne could explain, Father Tyrrell had already averted his gaze and started a new topic:
“Regardless, the most important thing right now is to maintain law and order in Virginia. The investigation results for Tom Hagen’s assassination are out, and it proves that the postal system within the state is indeed unreliable. Our previous agreement is still valid.
“There are suddenly many vacancies in the Church, and it takes a lot of effort to stabilize people’s morale. And many of the people under Walter are old, messy accounts left over from the colonial period; strictly speaking, they can’t even be considered federal employees. It shouldn’t be a problem to hand some of them over to you to handle, right?”
Bringing up old matters, although Father Tyrrell looked nonchalant, Wayne felt a tingling sensation in his scalp upon hearing this.
His thoughts raced. Father Tyrrell had previously said that he and Walter were “their own people,” yet when it came to taking action, he didn't hesitate at all.
If he refused again now, he might have to buy a one-way train ticket back to Kankakee that very night, or even worse, be chased back on horseback.
But I really don't want to be someone else's enforcer… If I get too deeply involved, I might not even be able to guess where my enemies come from later…
Wayne didn't mind “catching bad guys,” but that was different from blindly “hitting wherever told.” Bishop Corleone had never even specifically targeted anyone for the Detective Agency.
Saliva churned in his throat. Wayne remained outwardly calm, then his gaze met Father Tyrrell’s again.
Damn it, one last gamble:
“Bishop Corleone previously gave me a writ, stating that until it expires, our Detective Agency in Virginia has the same authority as an Exorcist to apprehend wild, unauthorized Extraordinary Persons. If they are involved in violations or crimes, we will certainly do our best and not let them disrupt order. I just don't know if it's still valid now?”
Silence spread again. Wayne felt as if he could hear the ticking of the pocket watch in his waistcoat pocket.
Father Tyrrell’s gaze once again drifted to the oil painting. After a long pause, he looked back again:
“I will not revoke it. But on the condition that you remember what you just said: ‘You will not let go of anyone who attempts to disrupt stability through crime.’”
“You can rest assured, I will do it.”
Phew… Fortunately, Father Tyrrell’s obsession doesn’t seem that deep. This gamble wasn’t a loss… It shouldn’t have been a loss, right…?
