Chapter 679: A Short Break
After the small meeting concluded, Inessa took Hope to the Cathedral.
While the Detective Agency might have its own agenda, since the matter could potentially involve a truly high-level wild Extraordinary Person, it was important to maintain a professional and reliable image in terms of safety.
Such a major incident, occurring in a sensitive area like the Dock Area, how could they not drag the church into it... ah no, how could they not promptly report it to the local Cathedral?
Wayne intentionally didn't accompany them; on one hand, he felt that Bishop Tiriel highly valued Inessa's abilities and experience, so he would likely take Inessa's judgment seriously.
On the other hand, he was also worried that Bishop Tiriel might casually chat about other things and steer the conversation towards the Detective Agency's recent questionable activities in the Dock Area—such as last night's suppressive fire.
Some of the more subtle, winding matters, Bishop Tiriel probably wouldn't discuss with Inessa. If he were to reprimand the Detective Agency, he likely wouldn't directly target Inessa.
Moreover, Wayne took the opportunity to have Inessa request some heavy-duty equipment from the Exorcist Association. If Wayne himself were to make such a request, it might seem a bit suspicious, but if Inessa made it, it would sound completely selfless and logical.
The morning was originally the Detective Agency's staggered rest period for adjusting to the time difference. The Rabbit Gang's boss and Sheriff William had recently figured out their schedule, so they had also taken the opportunity to go home, shower, and sleep.
Lina wasn't idle either; she grabbed a random strong man to be her coachman and then went out for a “street sweep,” presumably to relay important information to the intelligence team and give new assignments.
Wayne, on the other hand, planned to take a quick nap for half the morning at the base, and then take Sanders out for reconnaissance.
He would use the map to scout suitable locations in the Dock Area for opening a cannery.
...
Inside the Sailor Gang's secret warehouse, a group of people had just finished a card game.
They were all mid-to-low level bosses within the Sailor Gang. When on night watch, bored, they naturally indulged in some entertainment.
After dawn, feeling like another night had passed, they told the subordinates who had been guarding inside and outside the warehouse to quickly rest. The subordinates were also quite sensible, gathering around and watching until the card game ended before truly dispersing.
Only two of them remained, still chatting by a large wooden box with a double-barreled shotgun on it, drinking the last of the wine from their bottles, waiting for others to finish using the washroom and such, before washing their faces and going to sleep.
“Didn't the boss say before that going with the police for questioning would at most result in bail within a day? How come they still haven't returned?”
“I heard that Mr. Schwartz recently offended some big shot in the city. Not only was the prosecutor involved in the interrogation, but the police also deliberately delayed processing the paperwork. But last night, when the boss's lawyer came, I heard him say that the boss and the others would be released by sunset today at the latest.”
“Then we don't need to keep guarding here tonight? Everyone's been so tense these past two days. Last night, a rat was stealing food, and one of the young lads almost fired his gun.”
“I think it'll be difficult. Didn't you hear gunshots intermittently outside last night? According to the boss, we'll probably have to hide here until this whole thing is over. Once the Aierlan Gang and the other gangs have fought each other enough, we'll reappear publicly. Who knows, maybe our gang's territory and business can even expand during that time.”
In the Dock Area, besides residential buildings and Supporting facilities shops, the most numerous structures were various warehouses. There were continuous storage areas and also relatively isolated individual warehouses, with ownership and actual users changing frequently.
Often, even the laborers called to move goods in the warehouses couldn't clearly say who owned which warehouse.
The strategy the Sailor Gang had chosen for the past two days was to temporarily pretend to cooperate with City Hall's tax audit, while also watching the other gangs fight amongst themselves.
So, they not only processed and moved their gang's goods in advance, but also gathered up their remaining manpower, hiding here to guard their things and not go out.
At this point, one of the guys, leaning against the wall with his feet crossed on the wooden box, couldn't help but crack a dark joke:
“Actually, as long as the boss and those brothers can come back, that's enough. Some people only know how to flatter but can't get things done. Them being kept in the Police Station is actually a good thing for the gang.”
The internal factions within the gang were actually clear long ago. Everyone knew who was a “brother” and who disliked whom, but they just didn't know if the boss was aware.
After he finished speaking, he tilted his head back and continued drinking the wine from his bottle, waiting for the other person next to him to agree and add a comment, then they would both laugh.
This was a small ritual within their inner circle to reinforce mutual recognition and demonstrate consensus. Sometimes it could be used to probe the personal leanings of other gang members; other times, it was simply a habit of teasing.
Then he noticed that the other person hadn't given him any reaction.
Hmm?
Was this kid drunk, or did he have other thoughts?
Having played cards and drunk all night, being completely drunk was unlikely, but by this point, he had intermittently drunk almost an entire bottle of cheap whiskey, and he himself was feeling a bit lightheaded.
The wine bottle naturally dropped with his arm. He glanced sideways with a hint of displeasure, then was startled.
A tall, burly man with a white mask had silently lifted his companion.
His companion was currently held by the opponent's large hand, gripping his chin and displayed in front of him, unable to make a sound or break free, his feet dangling without a place to stand.
The man with the white mask seemed to have been waiting for this moment. The instant he was noticed, the knife in his other hand swiftly slashed across his companion's throat.
Then blood splattered directly onto the face of this gang member.
The wine bottle dropped, and someone scrambled to retrieve his legs from the large wooden box, grabbed the shotgun, and cocked the hammer.
Then the buckshot from the barrel drilled into the bodies of the opponent and his companion with a "bang."
His companion, whose neck was half-slit, let out a muffled groan of pain in his dying moments, but the man with the white mask was like a wooden puppet without pain, seemingly indifferent.
The other hammer of the double-barreled shotgun was cocked, and the two triggers, side-by-side within the trigger guard, were pressed simultaneously again. The person holding the gun now shouted, “Enemy! Come quickly!”
The gunshots only slightly slowed the opponent's movements.
The tall figure approached, the shotgun was slapped aside, the fleeing figure was impaled in the back by a thrown knife, and then lifted by the ankles, held upside down.
The first few Sailor Gang members who rushed over saw one of their bosses, who had been very promising to become the boss's right-hand man, now half-leaning against a pillar in the warehouse, his intestines spilling out.
His head was on the ground, one leg pointed towards the sky, his crotch was already wet, and his eyes had lost their luster.
One of them was about to scream in terror to summon more companions, but then he saw a companion next to him instantly widen his eyes, his gaze fixed behind himself.
He wanted to turn his head in fear, and then, as his vision fell, he saw a tall, white-masked figure.
And the headless body in front of that figure, spurting blood.
The headless body, as it softly collapsed backward, was pressed down on the shoulders by the opponent, turning into a kneeling posture.
His consciousness then fell into silence.
