I have a task to entrust… I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place… The signboard of this security company really is just a signboard…
Hearing the visitor's words, Klein swallowed a whole mouthful of complaints, only regretting that there was no online forum or bullet-comment stream here in which to vent.
However, he quickly recalled that he had once asked the captain a similar question; the answer was — if there's time, why not take the job? The money earned could go into the team's petty cash and into bonuses for the people who carried out the work.
Rozanne's eyes rolled; after thinking a moment, she said:
"All our security personnel are out on jobs; the earliest one to return will not be back for at least an hour. If your matter isn't urgent, you might consider waiting."
Of the six official members of the Nighthawks, Captain Dunn Smith had been called to the church by the Bishop on some business; Leonard Mitchell was filling in for him on guard at the Chanis Gate.
"Corpse Collector" Frye and "Sleepless" Lawyao Layton had gone to the Golden Sycamore District to assist the police in investigating a theft case with cultic elements. The other "Sleepless", Conli White, was on rotational rest, while the other "Midnight Poet", Sigá Te'ang, had gone to the Raphael Cemetery on the northern outskirts for routine patrol.
As for the remaining two Beyonders, Old Neil was advanced in years and frail of body and had not been out on missions for a long time; Klein was still a beginner — in every regard a real half-baked rookie.
"None of them in…" The tall, thin man with greying temples and umbrella in hand fell crestfallen; he took off his hat and bowed: "My apologies for the disturbance — good day."
He turned and walked toward the door; amid the rushing rain and howling wind, he descended the stairs and left No. 36 Zouteland Street.
"What rotten timing." Rozanne sighed regretfully, watching the gentleman just now depart.
Even though the commission earned wouldn't have included her share, it surely would have meant at least a hearty meal to share.
"Can't be helped — the Chanis Gate must be guarded around the clock." Klein, satisfied, set down his knife, fork and spoon — even the turnip and mixed-vegetable soup he didn't much like was finished cleanly. "Would you rather Brite go out on missions? Or yourself?"
Rozanne's eyes rolled; she said with a giggle:
"Brite can't, but you can, our own 'Seer'…"
Before she finished, she abruptly came to her senses and clammed up — the door was not yet fully closed; if a passerby or visitor outside heard talk of Beyonders, that would count as a leak.
"Good thing the captain isn't here…" Rozanne glanced toward the doorway and silently stuck out her tongue: "Otherwise I'd have to go to confess again!"
Brite and Klein burst out laughing at the same moment; exchanging a glance, they began to clear the table.
Once everything was tidy, Klein — without an umbrella, with the heavy rain still pouring — chose to remain at Blackthorn Security Company.
He took a newspaper, sat on the soft, springy sofa, and began an unhurried "noon rest."
"The airship route from Backlund to Dixie Bay has opened…"
"'Great Detective Munson' has been compiled into a volume and is about to be published…"
"An advertisement from Logas's weapon shop? One standard revolver with six rounds for 3 pounds 10 soller; one double-barrel shotgun for 2 pounds…"
……
Klein, leafing through Tingen Honest Man News, suddenly noticed an item:
"…The criminals who murdered Mr. Welch and Ms. Naia have all been caught; we trust that the atmosphere of panic spreading through the Northern District, the Golden Sycamore District, and the Eastern District will be greatly relieved… Mr. Welch's father, the banker Mr. McGovern, is escorting his youngest son's body home to Conston City for a grand funeral…"
After re-reading it several times, Klein suddenly sighed:
It seems Welch's father has accepted the police's version and has not engaged a private detective to investigate further…
His grief at the loss of his youngest son surely cannot compare to my own father and mother's grief at losing their only son…
His mood sank in an instant; Klein sat there, long without moving.
As for the fact that neither Welch's nor Naia's funeral invited him — he found it not at all strange, and was not depressed by it.
Once everything has settled, I'll find a chance to lay a bouquet before each of their graves… — Klein was about to head to the lounge for a brief nap when the door of the reception hall was suddenly knocked again.
"Please come in." Rozanne, head nodding sleepily, snapped to attention.
The not-quite-closed door was pushed open; the same tall, thin, grey-templed gentleman in formal wear walked back in.
"May I wait here for a while? Your mercenaries — er, security personnel — should be back soon, shouldn't they?" He earnestly asked, hiding his anxious expression as best he could.
"Of course. Please take a seat over there." Rozanne pointed at the sofa beside.
Klein, full of curiosity, asked:
"Where did you hear of our security company? Who recommended us to you?"
To have made two trips back and forth in the heavy noon rain, and still be willing to wait?
Mm — it must be that the members of the Nighthawks squad have, with remarkable ease, dealt with what others see as difficult missions, and have accumulated enough reputation in this trade…
The tall, thin gentleman propped his umbrella outside the door; on his way to the sofa, he answered with a wry smile:
"I have visited every mercenary — er, security company — and every private detective on the nearby few streets; only here is there still any hope. They simply have no one free to take on another job… To be candid, if I hadn't met a serving boy delivering meals, I never would have thought there was still a security company here."
…Completely different from what I imagined… — Klein was momentarily dumbstruck.
Rozanne cut in:
"They're that busy? So many missions?"
The grey-templed tall, thin man sat down and said, sighing:
"You are a mercenary squad — pardon — a security company; you've surely heard of the home-invasion-and-murder case in the Howers Street block, haven't you?"