Part 1 the joker chapter 25 the church
While muttering to himself, Aztec subconsciously glanced at Quentin Cohen, as if looking for a hint, for inspiration.
Cohen, with his sunken eye sockets and deep blue eyes, shook his head without hesitation:
”I don’t have the slightest recollection.”
”…… Well, maybe it’s just a similar root word.” Azk dropped his left hand and smiled to himself.
Klein was slightly disappointed with the result, but couldn’t help but add:
”Mentor, Mr. Azik, as you know, I’m very interested in exploring and restoring the history of the Quaternary Period, so if you remember anything, or if you’ve been given additional information, could you write to me?”
”No problem.” Because of today’s events, the silver-haired senior associate professor of Cohen was quite pleased with Klein.
Azuk also nodded along and said:
”Is your address still the same as before?”
”For the time being, but I’ll be moving soon, so I’ll write to you then.” Klein replied in a respectful manner.
Senior Associate Professor Cohen shook his black cane and said:
”It really is time for a better environment.”
At that moment, Klein glanced at the newspaper in Azik’s hand and said with deliberation:
”Mentor, Mr. Azik, what did the newspaper say about Welch and Naya? I only knew a little about it before from the police officer in charge of the investigation.”
Azik was about to reply when Senior Associate Professor Cohen, who wasn’t quite wrinkled, suddenly smoothed down the gold chain on his black tuxedo and pulled out a pocket watch.
Snap!
He clicked it open and nodded his cane forward:
”The meeting’s about to start, Azk, we can’t delay, so give the paper to Moretti.”
”Okay.” Azik handed Klein the newspaper he’d finished turning over in his hand, “We have to get upstairs, remember to write, Cohen and I’s address hasn’t changed, it’s still the Hoy University History Department office, haha.”
He turned with a smile and left the room with Cohen in one piece.
Crane took off his hat and saluted, watching the two gentlemen leave before bidding farewell to Harvin Stone, the owner of this office, and walked down the hallway, slowly exiting the door of the small, gray, three-story building.
In the very sunlight he lifted his cane, unfolded the newspaper, and saw that the header was:
”Tingen Morning News.”
What a variety of newspapers and magazines there were in Tingen …… What a morning paper, an evening paper, an honest man’s paper, a Birkeland daily, a Tassock paper, a family magazine, a story review …… Klein casually recalled seven or eight names that came to mind within his mind, of course. Some of them were not local, but came from steam train-based “distribution.”
Today, with industrialized paper and printing, the price of a newspaper had dropped to one penny, and as a result, it was reaching a wider and wider audience.
Crane didn’t look too closely at the rest of the paper, but quickly found the story “Home Invasion and Murder” in the “News Section”;
”…… According to the police department, Mr. Welch’s house was in a terrible state of disarray, and with the loss of all gold, jewelry, and banknotes, as well as everything of value that could be conveniently taken away, not even copper pennies, there is reason to believe that this is a gang of cruel and vicious criminals who would not hesitate to kill anyone who saw their long face. not hesitate to kill innocent people who have seen what they look like, such as Mr. Welch, such as Lady Naya.”
”This is a travesty of the laws of the realm! This is a provocation to public safety! No one wants to experience something like this! Of course, the good news is that the police department has locked up the murderer and caught the main culprit, and we will give a follow-up report as soon as possible.”
”Reporter, John Browning.”
Did the treatment and cover up ah …… Klein walked on the boulevard, nodded slightly unnoticeably.
He casually flipped through the paper, reading up on other news and serialized stories as he strolled along.
Suddenly, all the cold hairs on his back stood up, as if a fine needle was sticking there.
Is someone watching me? Sizing me up? Spying on me?
One thought came to him, and Klein had a vague realization.
When he was on Earth, he had also felt invisible stares before, and eventually discovered the source of the stares, but never once had he reacted as clearly as he did now, with a clear “conclusion”!
The same thing happened in the original owner’s memory fragments!
Is it because of the traveling or that strange “transfer ceremony” that my “sixth sense” has become stronger?
Resisting the urge to look for someone to watch, Klein followed the example of novels, movies and TV shows he had read, slowly paused, put away the newspaper and looked out over the Hoy River.
Following this, he turned his head sideways a little in the manner of a four-way view, followed by a natural turn to take in his surroundings.
There was no one here except the trees, the lawn, and the students passing by in the distance.
But Klein was certain there was still someone watching!
This ……
Klein’s heart raced, his blood flowing in a spurt with a fierce poof.
He unfolded the newspaper and half covered his face, afraid that someone would notice the wrongness of his expression.
At the same time, he gripped his cane, ready to draw his gun.
One step, two steps, three steps, Crane moved forward slowly, as he had just done.
The feeling that he was being spied on and sized up remained, but there was no sudden outbreak of any danger.
Walking slightly stiffly down the boulevard, he reached the waiting point for the public carriages, and was fortunate enough to find that one just happened to be approaching.
”Iron …… zot …… No, Champagne Street.” Klein denied himself successively.
He had at first intended to go straight home, but, fearing that he might lead the snooper, who knew not his purpose or good or bad, to his apartment, and then, wishing to go to Zotland Street, and ask for help from the “night-watchmen,” or his colleagues, but fearing that they were spooking him, and exposing him of their own accord, had been obliged to pick a spot at random.
”Sixpence.” The toll collector replied familiarly.
Klein didn’t bring any gold pounds out today, and put them in the place where he was accustomed to hide his money, and merely took two Soule bills, while he had spent the same amount of money on his previous visit, and had exactly one Soule and six pence left on him, so he pulled out all the coins and gave them to the toll collector.
Getting into the carriage and finding a seat, as the door closed, Klein only felt that the uneasy feeling of being watched finally disappeared!
He exhaled slowly, only to feel his hands and feet trembling slightly.
What to do?
What to do next?
Kline looked out of the carriage window and tried his best to think of a solution.
Without clarifying the snooper’s purpose, treat it as malicious for now!
One idea after another emerged and was rejected by Klein, who had never experienced anything like this before, and it took him several minutes to find a way out.
The Night Watch must be notified, only they can really solve the problem!
But we can’t just go there like this, we’ll be exposed, and maybe that’s what the other side is trying to do. ……
Following this line of thought, Klein roughly formulated one plan after another, and the idea gradually became clear.
Whew!
He exhaled a cloudy breath and regained his basic calmness, looking seriously at the scenery flying backward outside the window.
No accidents happened until the carriage reached Champagne Street, but Klein pushed the door and got out, and immediately had that uneasy feeling of being stared at and watched again!
Pretending to perceive nothing, he took his newspaper, carried his cane, and walked slowly in the direction of Zotland Street.
Instead of entering that street, however, he went round the back to the Rue Rouge de la Lune, where there was a pretty white square, and a large church building with a spire!
The Church of St. Selene!
The headquarters of the Church of the Goddess of Darkness in Tingen!
As a believer, there was nothing the least bit strange about coming over on a day off to participate in mass and pray.
The cathedral had a distinctly Earth-like Gothic style, black in color overall, with a tall, mottled bell tower on the front façade, which sat atop a massive central buttress between red and blue latticework windows that thrust into the clouds.
Klein stepped into the church and walked down the aisle toward the great prayer hall, and all the way up, narrow, high windows inlaid with fine blue and red floral patterns let in rays of tinted light, so blue that it was almost black, so red that it looked like the moon, and set the surroundings off in an extraordinary darkness.
The feeling of being watched vanished again, and Crane, with his usual expression of unseen joy, took a step outside the great open prayer-hall.
There were no high windows here, and the deep darkness became the main character, but behind the arched altar, on top of the wall that the door entered directly, a dozen or two fist-sized round holes penetrated to the outside, letting the brilliant, pure sunlight shine in, condensed and bright.
This is like a pedestrian in the dark night, suddenly looked up, saw the starry sky, saw a bright, that is so sublime, so pure, so sacred.
Even if he had always thought that the gods could be studied and understood, Klein couldn’t help but lower his head.
In the bishop’s low, gentle sermon, he quietly walked down the aisle separating the left and right seats, found a spot that was unoccupied and close to the access road, and slowly sat down.
After leaning his cane against the back of the chair in front of him, Klein removed his bowler hat and rested it on top of his thighs along with the newspaper, then interlocked his hands against his drooping forehead.
The entire time, he did it slowly and orderly, as if he had actually come to say a prayer.
Klein closed his eyes and listened quietly in the darkness of his vision to the bishop’s voice:
”They were naked, unclothed, uncovered in the cold.”
”They were drenched by the rain, and because they had no shelter, they clung to the rock.”
”They are mothers whose children have been taken from them, they are orphans who have lost hope, they are the poor who have been driven from the right path.”
”The night did not abandon them, and gave them favor.”
…… (note 1)
The echoes were superimposed on each other, and the sound was so loud that Klein’s eyes were darkened and his mind was cleansed as if by a cleansing.
He experienced this calmly until the bishop finished his sermon and ended the Mass service.
The bishop opened the door to the confessional next to him, and a gentleman, and a lady, lined up.
Klein opened his eyes, put on his bowler hat, picked up his cane and newspaper, and followed the rise to an orderly line.
After twenty minutes or so, it was finally his turn.
Stepping in and closing the door with his backhand, Klein’s eyes were once again ghostly before him.
”What do you want to say, my son?” The bishop’s voice came from behind a flap made of wooden slats.
Klein took the badge of “Special Operations Unit 7” from his pocket and handed it to the Bishop through the crack.
”Someone’s following me, and I’m looking for Dunn Smith.” As if colored by the darkness, his tone became soft.
The Bishop took the badge and after a few seconds of silence said:
”The doorway to the confessional is to the right, to the bottom, and there is a secret door next to it; someone will guide you when you enter.”
As he spoke, he pulled a cord in the room, allowing a certain priest to hear the sound of a bell ringing.
Klein retrieved his badge, took off his bowler hat, pressed it to his chest, and bowed slightly before turning his body and pushing through the door.
After making sure that the feeling of being watched didn’t return, he reattached his black half-high bowler hat, and without a trace of extra expression on his face, he carried his cane and turned to the right until he reached the arched sacristy.
On the side-aligned wall he found the secret door, opened it noiselessly, and flashed in.
The dark door closed silently, and a middle-aged man in black priestly robes appeared in the glow of a gas lamp illuminating Klein’s eyes.
”What is it?” The middle-aged priest asked briefly.
Klein showed his badge and repeated what he had just said to the bishop.
Without further question, the middle-aged priest turned his body and walked forward in silence.
Klein nodded, stroked his bowler hat, took his black cane, and quietly followed the other.
Roxanne said, to the intersection of “Charnis Gate” to the left is the church of St. Selene.
Note 1: Adapted from Chapter XXIV of the Old Testament – Job.