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LOS 22
Giles Hessen gazed at the photograph of the woman in the newspaper. A woman with pale hair. Anna Keating. At first glance, it sounded like an ordinary name, but to him, it was a name more special than any other. Giles knew who she was.
Though her hair color had faded and her name had changed, she still possessed a face that was impossible not to recognize.
Not long ago, he had gone to hear Lily—no, Anna—perform. It was a concert for award winners. Since it was a prestigious competition, a considerable crowd had gathered, enough to fill the massive hall of three thousand seats.
He had attended the concert to confirm Anna's identity. Although he already had clues regarding the name Anna, he couldn't help but remain uncertain. That was the case until he witnessed the blonde woman in a white dress stepping onto the stage.
The woman, who had clearly been pursued by someone, had suddenly appeared before the public as a famous pianist?
It made no sense.
He had to find out if she was indeed the woman he knew.
Wrapped in soft, white fabric, Anna sat before the piano. After a moment of composing herself while looking down at the keys, she finally began to play.
Anna's performance carried emotions as deep as an abyss. That was the characteristic that distinguished her from others. Listening to the feast of delicately swirling scales, Giles let out a faint smile.
Through Anna's playing, he became certain. Ah, she is indeed the woman I know.
She had vanished from the mansion during the time Giles had been away. It was clear she had fallen into danger in his absence. What could have been the reason she had to flee without even the leisure to notify him?
Had someone broken into the mansion and tried to harm her?
If so, who?
Giles succeeded in finding Anna again in a nearby town. However, she fled once more. She did so without giving Giles a single moment to say a word.
Convinced that Anna was in grave danger, Giles decided to change his approach. Rather than attempting a hasty contact, he began investigating the people around her. He tracked Anna's movements, stationed men, and utilized the power of the wiretapping center.
One man caught Giles's eye. Albert Shaw. Circumstantially, he seemed to be Anna's patron. Their relationship appeared quite intimate; Anna relied heavily on Albert.
For some reason, he felt a desire to investigate Albert in more detail. Thus, he began gathering all available information on him. On paper, he was a wealthy businessman who had lived abroad and recently entered Ipswin.
However, whenever he tried to dig deeper into Albert, the trail of information vanished as if by appointment. He could not penetrate deeply into the man's history. It was as if Albert were under someone's protection.
It was suspicious, but there was no decisive evidence.
Giles rose from his seat to meet the secret agent he had assigned to Albert Shaw. The agent was waiting for him not far away.
The agent pulled something from inside his coat and handed it to Giles.
It was a wiretapping record.
"Would you like to listen to the recordings yourself, sir?"
"No, I'll read them first."
He read through the records. An invitation sent to Anna. Vittelsden. An express train ticket to a foreign country... the Orient Express.
"Are you certain he said 'Montreal Station'?"
The agent nodded.
"It is a verbatim transcription of the recording."
If so, this was a serious matter. Montreal Station had been closed recently due to financial difficulties. Because of the bombings, train operations from neighboring countries were limited, and Ipswin's tourism industry had also slumped in the aftermath of the revolution. The central station had somehow survived, but the small stations on the outskirts ultimately could not avoid the closure order.
There was more than one suspicious point.
"The Orient Express?"
"I believe it is a luxury train that first began operating before the war. It seems unlikely that such a train would stop at a closed station."
"...Have there been any recent bookings for this train?"
"A train by that name does not come to Ipswin at all. Therefore, naturally, no tickets have been sold on the market. The ticket to Vittelsden mentioned by this man is a non-existent item."
Feeling his nerves sharpen, Giles pulled out the film photographs from the envelope. They were photos of Albert Shaw heading somewhere.
Gazing silently at his face, Giles nodded and dismissed the agent.
A non-existent ticket. A closed station. Albert was trying to take Anna somewhere.
Now, he could clearly see what danger surrounded Anna.
He had to warn her. While Albert Shaw's true identity remained opaque, it was certain that he was carrying out a secret conspiracy targeting Anna.
He couldn't understand why Anna, who had been so cautious as to change her name, did not suspect Albert. Had his superficially affable impression made her soft? Why had she trusted him?
Giles tucked the envelope he received from the agent into his coat and turned away. He could have requested cooperation from his colleagues, but he wanted to handle the matter of Anna alone.
Though she had laundered her identity, Anna was still the daughter of a Beldam noble. He could not let his colleagues investigate her. Doing so would be pushing her into a pit under the guise of helping her.
Ultimately, this matter rested on him.
After a long wait, it was time to meet Anna again.
-
My intention to buy food, stock up the house, and minimize going out was genuine. I walked around the market carrying a large bag. Since I wanted to avoid being recognized, I covered as much of my face as possible, down to the bridge of my nose, with a scarf.
I excluded foods that spoiled easily. I filled my bag only with things that could be kept and eaten over a long period. I could have asked Albert for help, but he already looked after me far too much. I wanted to handle something like this on my own.
However, I regretted that choice the moment I locked eyes with the police patrolling the market. Damn it. They were approaching me. A woman with her face covered, carrying a large bag, must have looked incredibly suspicious to them.
I knew very well that running would only make the situation worse.
"Hey, miss."
A policeman holding a baton leaned over and stared intently into my eyes.
I put on the most innocent voice I could muster.
"Is something the matter?"
"Let's do a quick check."
The policeman held out his hand.
"Identification."
I rummaged through my clothes and pulled out my ID. Although it had been issued by a government office, the personal details written on it were one hundred percent fake. I tried my best not to let my hand shake.
Taking the ID, the policeman exchanged a strange look with his colleague.
"Your name is Anna Keating?"
"That's right."
"Lower your scarf."
I had no choice but to lower the scarf. Upon seeing my face, they let out exclamations as if they had discovered a treasure and burst into laughter.
"It really is her! That pianist!"
"Listen, do you know how much of a topic you are in our neighborhood? My girlfriend is absolutely obsessed with your achievements. If I'd known, I would have learned to play the piano myself."
"Anna Keating, do you usually shop here?"
I knew this would happen. They were making a fuss, seemingly shocked to encounter me at a local market. Feeling the gaze of the people around me, I gave a vague answer.
"Ah, yes..."
"You look much better in person. That photographer should be fired. We can't just leave—let's get an autograph. How many more chances will we have to run into you like this?"
I played along obediently to get rid of them as quickly as possible. I already wanted to go home. The policemen looked satisfied as they received the signatures I scribbled in their notebooks.
"Alright, sorry for taking your time. I didn't expect it to be you. But looking back, it was a good thing we checked."
"Why was your face covered with a scarf?"
"I think I'm coming down with a cold," I brushed it off.
"Don't walk around like that next time. It looks suspicious. Well, thanks to that, we had the honor of meeting a celebrity."
They greeted me politely and walked away, chatting among themselves. I put my ID back in my clothes and pulled the scarf up again.
I've done enough shopping, so I should go home now. Having decided this, I hugged my bag to my chest and walked quickly away from the crowd with my head down.
It was just as I turned into the alleyway I frequently used. I stumbled violently as someone shoved me against the wall between the alleys. An unpleasant breath pressed against me from close range.
"If you don't want to get hurt, you'd better hand over everything you've got."
A man was holding a knife to my throat. In an instant, irritation surged to the top of my head. It was a dreadfully unlucky day. The policemen who had bothered me for an autograph were nowhere to be seen at a time like this.
I wanted to give him what he wanted and send him away, but to do that, I would obviously have to hand over all my money, including the groceries in my bag.
I didn't want that. Because then I'd have to come back to the market. I was someone who had to minimize going out. The thought that I should have asked Albert to accompany me wouldn't leave my mind.
At the very least, these things didn't happen when a man was by my side.
I attempted to negotiate.
"I'll give you half of what I have."
Naturally, he didn't listen to me.
"Give it all."
"Ah, seriously, what is wrong with you! This isn't even worth that much!"
"Do you really want to die? I told you, if you don't want to get hurt—"
I shoved him with my bag and ran with all my might. However, the robber was a far more energetic human than I had anticipated. I was soon caught by the hair. Desperate not to lose my bag, I hugged it to my chest and held on, collapsing onto the ground.
"Go away! This really isn't worth much! There's nothing but potatoes and bread!"
"Is this girl actually crazy! Hand it over now!"
I resisted desperately as he tried to snatch the bag from me. It was true. There really was nothing but potatoes and bread. He seemed to think I had hidden gold bars in the bag. I felt miserable that I was in this state in an empty alley over mere potatoes, and tears welled up in my eyes.
I really need to leave for Vittelsden as soon as possible—
Suddenly, the man let go of me. As it turned out, he had been knocked to the ground and was being severely beaten by a soldier. The soldier in uniform gave the robber a thorough thrashing, then grabbed him with one hand, hauled him up, and kicked him in the rear.
"Get lost, you damn bastard."
The robber adjusted his hat and scrambled away, staggering. I also straightened my clothes and stood up. I bowed my head toward the soldier.
"Thank you."
"Are you alright?"
He was treating me as if he knew me. What? I lifted my head and looked up at the soldier's face.
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