The Laws of Werewolf Hunting

Chapter 100
Bruno looked at the nightingale beside the bed in confusion.

Before he lost consciousness, he saw Sanders instructing the Gray Hats to carry his body away.

Being here now, those gang members should also be in danger.

Many of his friends are working for the Gray Hats, and the current situation is really difficult.

Those bastards with no arms and no legs.He owes them so much!

At this moment, Nightingale showed him a kind smile: "If I want you to get off the bed now and do things for us and yourself, do you think you have enough strength and stamina to complete the task?"

Bruno took a deep breath, suppressing the desire to cough: "I don't think general actions are a problem."

He needs to know what happened to Sanders. Although he has already made some guesses, there is no evidence after all. Was the other party manipulated by evil magic, or was he really betrayed?
This curiosity overwhelmed the discomfort.

"Very good! Very good!" Nightingale said twice, and then the corners of her mouth curled up, revealing a smile that should have been considered kind. "So, if I need you to move freely to cooperate with my observation work, do you have any plans to propose?"

Bruno twitched the corner of his mouth, he probably knew what the other party was going to do.

"I thought it was unreasonable. I'm just an ordinary person, and I was injured, so I can't take too many risks." The detective changed his tone and showed weakness.

He wanted to solve this problem and get his detective agency back on track, but that didn't mean he would pay his life for it.

Nothing is more important than his life, and there may be some in the future, but now he has not found such a precious thing.

"Aren't you willing to take risks? You don't think that sitting on the bed and eating biscuits to coax the children will finish things by themselves?" Nightingale asked him.

"I at least want to know who can help me." Bruno got out of bed with the mattress and moved his legs to sit on the edge of the bed: "My assistants spend more time with Sanders than I do. If Sanders becomes If so, I'm afraid they won't be spared. If possible, I want a letter of recommendation so that I can find someone important in the city government, even a clerk, and then I can find a way to get a damn list."

"That's impossible. Our mission is just to observe. But." Nightingale paused and offered another proposal.

"Do you know the Presbyterian Church? This is a special organization. They are dedicated to hiding themselves and transforming the city at the same time."

"Slightly heard."

Bruno said quietly, of course he knew the name.

In fact, many gangs in St. Alvin's diocese rely on the existence of the Presbyterian Church. This process is not through some hint or acquiescence, but a natural phenomenon, just like toads grow where there is water, and toads grow out of straw piles. Like mice.

The existence of the Presbyterian Church is like this pool of water. It doesn’t even have the soles of people’s shoes, but it is everywhere. It is regarded as a part of the city by the residents of Sasha City, and only those who do jobs lower than the soles of shoes will see it and be afraid of it.

The members of the Gray Hats are also workers. Many of them have planted trees for a mysterious Mr. Dominion in the Presbyterian Church. The forest outside the city is their fruit.

"Excellent, so I don't have to explain it to you all over again. You're going to get them involved in this anyway."

"It has nothing to do with them, right? Are you sure they will deal with the Cules family's issue? I don't think these things have affected anyone, and it won't do any good to solve it." Bruno wondered, he had consciously classified himself into Among those who have no influence.

Nightingale didn't answer his question: "That's what you need to think about."

Bruno didn't get angry because of this attitude, he just lowered his head and immediately began to think about the feasibility of this task.

All the information he knows about the Presbyterian Church proves that the Presbyterian Church is an organization with few disputes. So far, it has not had conflicts with other existences, but this is also related to the longer existence of the Presbyterian Church. 20 years, this is what he learned through research, the specific duration must exceed this number, it can be said that the elders will be far more familiar with this city than he is.

In this case, the only informational advantage he had was probably the personal story of Caroline Coules, and only the most fragmented and uninteresting part of it.

Or was Nightingale implying to him that everything was only related to that woman?
If Nightingale is sure that the elders will be able to deal with the woman with the mysterious power, does it mean that there are also people in the elders who have incredible abilities?
Will his efforts work in this situation?

In this closed room, a bird song suddenly came from outside the window with the curtains drawn.

That is the song of the nightingale.

Bruno looked over vigilantly, but his sight was still blocked by the dark curtains, while Nightingale remained motionless, as if he didn't hear the sound. This abnormal reaction revealed some kind of information to the detective.

"Are you leaving?" he asked.

Nightingale put the book in her hand on the bedside table, and sighed imperceptibly.

"Hell, you don't have to talk so much sometimes."

"What do you mean?" Bruno lost consciousness again before he finished speaking.

"Don't let people know when we're gone, the singing will be forever in their memory. Who the hell wants to set the rules for intelligence agencies with poetry?"

Nightingale muttered and opened the window. The height of this floor was not too low, and the light from the street lamps looked no different from fireflies. The ground was bottomless, giving people the illusion of being distant and cold.

He took a breath, and jumped down towards the darkness outside the window.

"I thought you said you didn't have to see them," said Marietta disapprovingly.She also sat upright in a cheap cafe, as if she was about to participate in a military parade at any time.

It was not easy to find her during the day, and Clayton waited at the post office for a while before she finally became available.

He has respect for Mary, a typist, but also a woman, can actually become a sheriff who maintains order, which is not a legend.

"You don't need to meet, I just want to know the entrance to the black market in the mine outside the city."

Marie Aita's expression turned pale: "If you're talking about the hideout where the gang members hid from the sheriff, then I know this place too. What are you going to do there?"

"To stop an explosion."

The table shook, and Mary stood up abruptly, attracting the attention of other customers in the cafe.

Clayton regretted that he should have talked to her in a more private place, but fortunately Mary had no habit of repeating what others said aloud.

"Wow." Mary also realized that her reaction was inappropriate, exclaimed dryly, and began to make up things: "He dreamed that he was killing people, there must be an evil presence occupying his thoughts, he must Go to the church and do a few more exorcisms."

Her impromptu religious babble quickly turned off the interest of the others, and she sat down again after the others turned their heads away.

"I thought that if it were you, you would calmly face all kinds of disasters."

Clayton spoke highly of Mary, but instead of being joyful, she held the wine glass in front of her anxiously.

"You don't know the seriousness of the situation. The mine in that mine is far from being fully exploited. It was abandoned because of poisonous gas leakage and the vibration of the shaft wall caused by improper digging by the workers. What's worse, those poisonous gas hit If there is a fire, there will be an explosion, and if someone plans an explosion there, the entire population of the mining area may be buried alive."

There are still many residents in the mine who are not gang members. They are all people who cannot survive in the city. They may owe debts in other cities, they may have a bad reputation in the local area, or they are simply bad tempered. Widows and widows, but in short, they are all ordinary people. They maintain the operation of the black market as their daily work, and usually gather in a few places in the mine where there is no poisonous gas eruption.

If the mine collapsed, the number of casualties would be at least triple digits.

"Don't worry, no one is going to blow up the mine, it's still safe there." Clayton comforted her.

Marietta relaxed her beer glass fingers a little, suddenly ashamed that she was too nervous in front of a well-trained cavalryman, she had always aimed to be such a person, and now it seemed immature.

If things were really serious, Creighton would of course show it.

"I'm sorry, I'm a little nervous." She apologized to the lieutenant, and after gaining understanding, she expressed her confusion: "Then what are they going to blow up?"

"A steam train with twelve carriages."

boom!
Mary knocked over the beer glass.

(End of this chapter)