Chapter 648: Help
In the workshop's kitchen, a thick-cut steak, originally reserved for tomorrow's extra meal, was taken out of the marinating basin.
The large iron griddle, just set up tonight for batch-frying steaks, had already been reheated in one area by the stove's fire below.
Butter melted, steak was placed on top.
The fat sizzled.
The person performing this operation was Wayne, who wasn't particularly skilled at cooking, but he had watched documentaries about teppanyaki and knew how to pose.
So, after both sides had lightly seared, Wayne used kitchen tongs to 'stand' the steak up, sealing the edges and locking in the juices with practiced ease.
He decided: later, he'd set up a small restaurant, fix a large griddle in the middle, and create a transparent kitchen.
From now on, all simple meals for guests at the Detective Agency would be prepared this way. Everyone would sit around, eating and discussing matters, with dishes served directly from the griddle, avoiding the hassle of carrying plates back and forth.
The reason Parker wasn't busy was because the chef was currently sitting opposite Wayne, playing dead with a vacant stare.
And the big, black-clad Fat Man who had come to visit in the middle of the night was now carefully examining Parker up close, as if admiring a beautiful jewel—to be honest, two grown men facing each other so closely made for a somewhat 'intimate' scene.
Peter Clemensa had taken off his black top hat, his shiny bald head reflecting the candlelight slightly, making him look like a country bumpkin who had never seen the world.
But what he said still made Wayne's heart skip a beat:
"Master William's finest work, the School of Life's stolen alchemical masterpiece, a living doll once certified as a treasure by the Holy See. I had only seen portraits and descriptions of them before, but I never imagined the real thing could be so lifelike, almost 'ordinary' and 'commonplace'."
Inessa had briefly explained Parker's origin, and some of Lina's daily actions also showed Parker's unusual nature.
However, perhaps because Parker was sometimes stuffed into boxes or corners of carriages by Lina, and wasn't particularly hidden from outsiders, he seemed somewhat casual, so Wayne had almost come to regard the chef as normal, thinking, "Perhaps expensive, but probably not *that* expensive."
He hadn't expected this big Fat Man to view Parker in such a way, nor to know Parker's origins so clearly.
The Detective Agency, of course, wouldn't just introduce any random person to the chef, let alone this guy who claimed to be Tom Hagen's "former colleague," clearly having ties to the Holy Spirit Church.
However, seeing Parker was a formal request he made after stating his identity. The Fat Man's exact words were probably, "I hear you have a moving doll that can even cook. I'm hungry, so why don't we eat and talk?"
Lina didn't object. She herself was standing behind and to the side of the Fat Man, while Inessa was outside, monitoring the several subordinates the big Fat Man had brought with him.
The implied message from both of them was clear—these guys seemed troublesome and might cause casualties and losses for the Detective Agency. If they weren't enemies and merely wanted to "see" Parker, then letting the big Fat Man have a brief look wouldn't hurt.
After admiring for a while, Peter Clemensa finally looked up and asked, "Didn't you say someone could make it move? Why isn't it doing the cooking?"
Lina replied from behind him: "Manipulating it requires the use of extraordinary abilities. We don't trust you that much, and it's necessary to conserve spiritual power."
No sooner had she spoken than she snapped her fingers.
Parker's eyes instantly regained their sparkle, and his head lifted slightly, then quickly drooped again as if power had been cut.
"Wow, how wonderful!"
The big Fat Man clapped his hands twice, very supportively, then said, "I see. No wonder these living dolls have been circulating for so long, yet in recent decades, this is the first time I've heard of someone being able to make them perform complex operations again. It seems the method is similar to that legendary medieval puppeteer, both requiring the use of specific extraordinary abilities for indirect manipulation."
After chatting for a bit longer, when the big Fat Man finally seemed to lose interest in Parker, Lina dragged Parker's chair into the dining hall connected to the kitchen.
Wayne, meanwhile, was holding a small spatula in one hand and a chef's knife in the other, already cutting the thick-cut steak into neat little cubes on the griddle as handsomely as possible, and pouring hot oil over them to ensure even heating. "Did you come tonight just to see a moving doll?"
"Of course not, admiring the doll was just a bonus."
Peter Clemensa's gaze followed Lina's disappearing direction. "Don... hmm, what you call Bishop Corleone, he once instructed me to keep an eye on a few young ones in this area, and you are one of them."
Feeling that Lina didn't seem to be coming back, he turned his head again: "I heard you were attacked, and I wanted to ask if you needed help. But judging by your performance just now, it seems this small trouble doesn't require outside intervention."
The information in these few sentences was quite significant...
Bishop Corleone's name was "Vito." Wayne had seen it on the tombstone during the bishop's funeral service.
As for the "Don" in the big Fat Man's mouth, it was similar to words like "de," "von," and "van" used in names in the Old Continent, all of which, in a sense, conveyed a sense of aristocratic status and family heritage.
Using "Don" to refer to a bishop was a bit like hearing government clerks call their superiors "boss" or "chief"—somewhat informal.
It wasn't that such a title was problematic, but the private relationship it subtly revealed was worth scrutinizing. It felt more like a "Jianghu atmosphere" (jianghu qixi - a Jianghu-like atmosphere), suggesting a closer personal relationship and an acknowledgment of the other party that leaned more towards so-called "personal loyalty" rather than simply a subordinate obeying a superior's "official command."
Wayne had by now scooped some medium-rare cubed meat into a plate. After sprinkling black pepper and fine salt, he also mimicked the chef's usual style, using a spoon to draw a shape with the sauce in the empty space on the plate.
As he handed the plate to the other person, he tentatively voiced his thoughts, "Can you help me find out who is behind those people?"
Wayne's mind was now connecting this to another matter—
Before Bishop Tiriel was formally consecrated, he had once asked Wayne a question.
He said that a bishop's guard typically consisted of two parts: one part always belonged to the Cathedral, much like Merlin, whom Wayne had recently encountered.
The other part was assembled and arranged by each bishop themselves, more like the exclusive personal team of each bishop. Theoretically, they should also arrange a handover before a bishop's replacement, or at least make a record.
However, Bishop Corleone's part of the guard was not handed over to Bishop Tiriel. The latter didn't even know their general whereabouts and even had to come and probe Wayne.
Familiar with both Bishop Corleone and Tom Hagen, able to quietly infiltrate the Detective Agency's security perimeter in the middle of the night, and even making Lina adopt an attitude of "no need for conflict if there's no benefit"—
Filtering by these conditions, the identity of the other party was practically obvious.
Incidentally, Inessa's reaction in this situation had no reference value; her actions would primarily be based on her judgment of the target's objective state and subjective behavior.
It felt like even if someone presented a heinous evil god, she would probably dare to try and stop it if necessary, but when facing a harmless yet arrogant fool, she would seemingly choose to back down without a fuss...
Peter Clemensa ignored the dining fork Wayne had placed beside the plate, directly picking up a piece with his fingers and popping it into his mouth, like eating peanuts:
"That's not within the scope of my assistance. Tom Hagen might be better at those things. The correct procedure between us should be for you to tell me a name, and I'll take care of the rest."
Well, that solidifies it even more.
"The crux of gang problems lies in ecological management; sometimes, it's not solved by just getting rid of one person."
Wayne chose to settle for less, then revealed his true intention, "Can I save this favor for later, and use it when needed?"
"Yes. After all, it's an old man's dying wish, and you're actually a bit like me back in the day, only we took different paths."
Peter Clemensa tossed another piece of meat into his mouth, "However, I'm preparing to leave Virginia soon, so I might not be able to return in time. And I don't help with just any request; you at least need to give me a suitable reason—for example, something similar to this attack on you and Merlin."
"Where are you planning to go?" Wayne couldn't help but become curious. He then scooped a few more medium-rare pieces of meat into a small plate and offered it to him as well.
"We might go to Illinois first, then probably Pennsylvania. As for the specific details, you shouldn't ask further."
Peter Clemensa finished speaking and then grinned slightly, "For his sake, you can tell Tiriel this news. Tiriel will probably breathe a sigh of relief, though he might also suffer from short-term insomnia."
Hmm... that's a good idea.
This piece of intelligence might be more valuable to Bishop Tiriel than catching a group of cultists.
"When do you plan to leave? I'll go to the Cathedral to report after you've departed."
"In about half a month. Virginia still needs a bit more observation; in another two weeks, it should be initially stable."
Should be enough time to deal with the Sailor Gang...
"According to our preliminary investigation, the people who recently attacked me seem to be from the Ireland Violent Group. If the people behind them make a move, can you help resolve it then?"
"The Ireland people... Andrew Pryor? I won't move against him because of you; the impact is too great. However, if you make the request, I might be able to give him a 'reminder.' For example, some of his subordinates could mysteriously disappear, and then a row of fingers could be placed on his bedsheet. I believe he wouldn't mind getting new bedding."
Wow,
He's not afraid of Bishop Tiriel or the Secretary of State. With such a 'vaccine' in place, this situation feels unexpectedly stable.
Wayne's curiosity then shifted elsewhere:
"I have a personal question. You should know Inessa, right? If we had actually fought just now, who would be stronger, you or her?"
