226 – Catastrophe (9)
Count Dracula from Eastern Europe, or Mr. Javert Wilson, the president of the Redhead Club, an up-and-coming club in London, has an unfortunate accident. And a few days before the fire.
In a warehouse on the outskirts of London, several men were checking the goods inside. On the outside, it looked like a warehouse that could be used in a factory, but if you looked inside, even a simple person like Jane Watson could tell that it was a suspicious place in many ways.
Boxes full of products that could be made in a factory or containers containing raw materials were not there. It wasn’t that there were no boxes, but the things inside were things that didn’t fit into the warehouse. The appropriate place for gold bars or bundles of banknotes was not a warehouse like this, but a bank vault.
In addition, the owner of this warehouse seemed to want to claim that it was a bank in the shape of a warehouse, and there were sturdy safes located in every corner. What is certain is that this was not a bank or a warehouse used by a bank, and it seemed suspicious to anyone.
A few young men grunted and moved boxes full of gold bars and banknotes under someone’s instructions. Although the men’s behavior was reminiscent of street thugs, and in fact most of them were, they were neatly organizing the warehouse.
Of course, they were only doing physical work and it was the resourcefulness of a young man giving instructions.
Unlike those who live as street thugs, the young man’s clothes were very neat. No, anyone with keen eyesight or relevant knowledge and culture could have noticed that he was wearing wealthy clothes. In fact, his actions and speech were also like that.
Unlike the people living on the streets of London who overuse terrible dialect and slang that are difficult to understand, the young man was correctly embodying the pronunciation that typical nobles and royals would use.
In fact, just by looking at his attitude, anyone could tell at a glance that he was a high-ranking person. Because he didn’t hide the expression on his face as if he didn’t like being in this place, or more precisely, being forced to work in the same place as lowly beings.
“This damn thing is almost coming to an end.”
The young man, John Clay, muttered as he watched the idiots fortunately doing their job properly. And Fred Forlock, who seemed to have understood this through conversation, who was standing next to him like an attendant, opened his mouth.
“Then there is no need to come here anymore. “It’s been a hassle coming and going all this time, and you’ve had a hard time, too.”
When the street wizard spoke, Clay just ignored him.
There were often people in the world who lived as villains thanks to their innate nature. James Moriarty was like that, and John Clay was also of a similar type.
He had a bit of kleptomania since childhood. At the same time, he felt a little pleasure in deceiving someone. It wasn’t a big problem because his brains were slightly better than others and the family itself was great.
Ironically, his family, which often produced wealthy and powerful politicians, helped ruin his nature. If he had grown up poor, there was a clear possibility that he would have grown up to be a sincere young man.
But thanks to his aristocratic education, Clay half-disdained crime, viewing it as the business of the vulgar until he entered college. Of course, even at such moments, he did not stop his self-justification, making a groundless distinction between the deviance of the nobility and the ugly crimes of the lower class.
However, this self-justification would have succeeded in giving him a few years of reprieve from the path of a criminal.
However, there was Professor James Moriarty at Oxford University and Christ Church, where Clay entered, and Clay attended one of his lectures.
The advice of his teacher, Professor Moriarty, was a big part of John Clay’s ability to find his calling a little earlier and become a criminal.
One of the reasons for maintaining a boring professorship at Oxford University in the first place was finding such young talents, so it was natural for Moriarty, but Clay often mistakenly thought that he had been chosen.
Thanks to this, he was working occasionally in Moriarty’s organization and learning. They looked like a master and apprentice from an old guild. In the first place, it was natural that in order to live as a proper criminal in England, one had to become involved with Moriarty.
But every time Clay did this, he couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable. Because he had royal blood, it was unpleasant for him to work with lowly commoners. Unlike people like himself who had noble blood, the stupid common people were clearly less inferior beings.
John Clay was an arrogant young nobleman who looked like something out of a painting.
Of course, James Moriarty was also not a nobleman, and he came from a fallen Ireland, so he fell into this category.
However, just as most discriminators make exceptions or do not acknowledge cases that directly challenge their beliefs, Clay made only James Moriarty an exception.
No, on the contrary, it has been a long time since it was sublimated to the point of being an object of worship.
Therefore, he spared no effort to review the Red Head Club project that he proposed and was in progress several times. Of course, he did not forget to completely ignore Fred Forlock, whom Moriarty had assigned as a guard next to him.
Of course, Porok had long expected to be ignored by this unlucky boy who ‘grew up well and went to Eton School to give his male lovers a behind-the-scenes look’.
He intentionally spoke to me in the first place to make me feel bad.
He was a person who gave the noble boy who treated him poorly a reason to be negative about him.
Of course, he wasn’t just talking to make me feel bad.
“Anyway… It’s always amazing to see you, bro. Now I understand clearly why the professor entrusted the work to Mr. Hyung. How much is the money and gold bars here? .”
“Ha, this is just a part of the iceberg, stupid wizard.”
Only then did Clay open his mouth. Of course, it was for his own self-display, but as if it was natural, the kid who saw himself as a subordinate started talking, and Porok concentrated quietly.
“Now that I think about it… I heard you have another warehouse? Where is it again? “The professor said it was a secret, even from me, and he was honestly a little upset.”
“… You don’t need to know that. The important thing is that when the time comes, we have to completely empty this place and do money laundering. “Sooner or later there will be a huge scandal and panic.”
Unfortunately, Aesongi did not tell Porok everything. No, it was safe to say that he had not gained any new information.
Contrary to his appearance, he was an annoying bastard who was quite careful and even entrusted the professor with his work.
That’s what Porok thought.
From noble mtl dot com
But he didn’t bother to ask any further questions. He had to be careful about anything that looked suspicious.
Fred Forlock felt like a lost investor these days, spending all day on the London Stock Exchange.
Although he doesn’t do stocks, he laughed at the stupid people who didn’t stop like gambling addicts even after failing to invest and ruining his life, but now he can understand it a little.
He was a traitor. He didn’t want to admit it to himself, but he was already a traitor at that point. The reason he acted so cautiously in the first place, and the reason he was careful about that damn kid lest he look suspicious, was because he knew that what he was doing was not honorable.
The price of failure was death. And he couldn’t turn back now.
Do I regret it? As much as he would have liked to say otherwise, Fred Forrock had only a hint of regret.
He thought that was the end of it when he handed over to the damn female detective all the evidence and data he thought he had about the Redheads Club.
However, the other party’s demands were endless. It was as if he was using himself as a bully and was going to pull everything out.
If cooperation had just begun, Porok might have been neatly ignored. But he intuitively knew that she and Detective Holmes were in the same boat, and that if she didn’t win, it wouldn’t be good for him.
That’s why these days, I tried to give her what she wanted, even if it meant going a little harder.
Clay, still clueless, left the warehouse first as if he had nothing more to see. Porok also looked around for a moment as if nothing had happened and then walked to the carriage waiting for him outside.
It is dangerous to ask any more questions. At this level, he had done enough. So he thought to himself.
But still, something was disappointing.
He thought that if he were given just a little more chance, he could be free. But he warned that his long-standing survival instinct would tell him to stay still for now.
He knew it too.
If he reached just a little further, he could get the evidence she wanted into her hands. But it was impossible as long as the professor was alive and well.
If only the professor could leave London, even for a few days, or not get involved in the affairs of the organization—
He thought so and immediately after returning to London, he sent materials to Holmes through his contacts as usual.
A few days later, news came that Count Dracula had been captured, and despite the chaos, a new meeting was held at the Redhead Club.
