Chapter 1.21

A carriage stopped outside the Lone Star Bar, and a tall, thin man got out. Turning to his two carriage drivers in capes and hoods, he said.

"Wait for me. Don't go anywhere from here. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir," one of them replied.

Turning back around, he walked to the bar. It was empty as usual. The barman, seeing the man who entered, recognized him and went on about his business.

"Is he in?" Asked the visitor.

"Yes," replied the barman.

The man nodded affirmatively and headed toward the interior. As he approached the door, he stopped and knocked twice. After a few seconds, the door was opened by Johnny. Without waiting to be let in he stepped inside.

"I don't have much time," he declared without sitting down or saying hello. "Where is he?"

Paul looked at the man who entered.

"Nice to see you too, Colonel."

"Where is he?"

"Awaiting judgment for murder."

"Murder? You should have told me as soon as you completed the mission."

"Actually, I wasn't," Paul corrected him. "You paid me, and I did it. That's all."

"I have to see him. Now!" The colonel raised his voice.

"It's not my problem anymore. The rest is up to you, without me. I think you have the connections there."

"You!" The colonel roared at him. "Where is he?" Calming down a little, he asked.

"The Southeast Department of the Capital Guard."

The colonel turned and left without saying farewell, slamming the door behind him. He came out of the bar very angry and immediately got into the carriage that was waiting for him.

"Where to go, sir?" Asked one of the carriage drivers.

"I didn't steal the lady's red handbag," Mike repeated his answer to the interrogators.

"So, you agree with the rest of the charges?" Captain Miller asked him.

"With the murder of the man dressed supposedly in a city guard uniform? Yes, I do," replied Mike.

"Look, you…" Miller began, but Anderson interrupted him again.

"Let me read you a little piece of your file," he turned to Mike. "On the fifteenth day of the fifth month, Mrs. L was outside the entrance to the Jolly Oyster Bar waiting for her carriage. At 7:13 p.m. there was an incident. An unidentified man (at the time) snatched from Mrs. L her red shoulder handbag, sewn by Shop C. The determined value of the handbag was 17 gold coins."

Mike, hearing the value of the purse, whistled in surprise.

"The man was wearing a traveling suit, gray pants, a light-colored shirt, a leather vest, and a gray coat. The description was average height, short dark cropped hair, light skin, oval-shaped ears, presumably of the white human race from the central lands," Anderson looked at Mike. "Does the description remind you of anyone?"

"Reminds me of a human male dressed in a gray traveling suit," Mike answered him.

"Reading further, then," Captain Anderson continued. "This man with the stolen handbag tried getting away. He ran down K. Street in a southerly direction. According to eyewitnesses, he used an air magic spell to speed away. The alleged spell was "quick feet". Mrs. L began calling for help from the city guard. The fleeing man ran into the married couple M., nearly knocking them down, and tried to snatch Mrs. M.'s husband's purse. But by pure chance, he failed, and tried to flee and headed down a side street. The fleeing man was spotted by Lieutenants T. and K. of the city guard who was nearby. They began chasing the man and forced him to turn into the backyard of the house at K. They demanded that the unidentified man obey their instructions, to which the unidentified man reacted sharply, using foul language. The second time they asked him to obey, he threatened the guards with a weapon. Lieutenants T. and K. had to use their weapons to detain him. Lieutenant K. was seriously wounded in the ensuing fight. Thanks to Lt. T's personal courage, the unidentified man was captured. Lieutenant K. died of his injuries on the spot before a healer arrived. Lieutenant T. and the unidentified man returned to the entrance of the Jolly Oyster Bar. Mrs. L. identified the unidentified man on the scene as the man who had grabbed her handbag. The handbag was successfully returned to Mrs. L."

"You should write detective stories or thrillers. Although a romance novel would be better. The ladies would love it," Mike grinned.

"You're all joking," Anderson told him. "Don't you realize the position you're in?"

"Oh, I understand perfectly," Mike replied.

"Apparently not," the captain disagreed with him. "Theft, attempted theft, attempted to flee the scene, insulting a city guard, disobeying a city guard, threatening the life of a city guard, killing a city guard. Seven charges. That's practically a death sentence. You'll be very lucky if you get a life sentence for criminal slavery. But given that the person killed was a law enforcement officer, I think you're guaranteed a death sentence."

"Fortunately, that's not for you to decide," Mike said with a smile.

"You're right," Anderson told him. "The sentence on each charge will be decided by the court. So, sign a confession on each charge, and I'll petition for a life sentence of criminal slavery."

"I will sign only one charge - murder."

Colonel Tirel was on his way to his mansion. It was only a block away from the de Graaf family estate and was somewhat similar to it, with three floors and a dozen bedrooms, a flower garden with a driveway, and a gate with guards. True, there was no lake, but there was a small stable, as a personal hobby of the colonel. Many did not know it, but the colonel owned a share in the capital's Hippodrome, and quite often exhibited his horses there.

The colonel got out of his carriage and called his man over.

"There's an urgent job," he told them. "Captain Stan Baltimore of the Central District of the Capital Guard. Need to bring him to me for a chat. Quietly and without noise. If quietly, doesn't work, at least keep him shut up. Forever. Do you understand?"

His man nodded in unison. Stan Baltimore came to Mike's house, asking questions about him, even going to the Ministry and asking questions, too. Tirel didn't know what he and Mike had talked about that day, but he had a bad feeling about it. And if the colonel doubted anything, he tried to neutralize such a threat at once. This time it was Stan Baltimore who showed up at such a bad time. The colonel had little time left, no more than twenty-four hours before Catherine de Graaf began to question him. Although this was expected and even part of the colonel's plan. But there was no way the colonel could allow any outside interference. It could have messed up all his cards.

Tirel waited until his men boarded the carriage and went to carry out his task. Then he made his way to the mansion, where servants lined up for him: the butler, the maids, and the head maid. They lined up on either side of the entrance, and as the Colonel approached, they said in chorus.

"Welcome back, Master," and they bowed to him.

"Prepare my official carriage for departure, and I need to change," he said without stopping.

"Face to the wall," the guard ordered Mike.

Mike was returning to his cell after the interrogation. There he was to spend at least three more days. The law required ten days for the investigation, but in his case, they decided to speed up the process a little.

The guard opened the cell door.

"Into the cell."

Mike followed the instruction and entered the cell. He was immediately followed by the cell door closing and the sound of retreating footsteps. He was left alone. He sat down on the wooden bunk and began to think.

The whole trial on him seemed to Mike not even absurd but ludicrous. At the same time, it was a planned order on him. He didn't know who had planned it or why, but he could already see some inconsistencies. Mike distinctly remembered the thief saying "he was needed alive" and at the same time, he was on death row. And on the fast track, which Mike no longer doubted. Normally after a death sentence is imposed, convicts have a month to appeal the sentence, and then only the death toll. In his case, there wouldn't be a month. And how long it would be, he didn't know.

The thief who stole the handbag and with whom it all began was also quite distinctive. He was deliberately picked out to look like Mike and in similar clothes. Most people in the capital were bad at distinguishing humans by their faces. That was probably the point. And the owner of the handbag was obviously one of them. They were all working for someone. But for whom? Mike asked himself that question and couldn't find the answer. It seemed to him there were several interested parties involved in his case. And in the next three days, one of the parties would definitely contact him with their proposal.

Would his ministry and clan be in time to intervene? Mike was sure that yes, they would.

He didn't have much time, so he decided to make the best of it. He sat down comfortably and put his hands on his knees and meditated. His cell was in semi-darkness, and he could hear the rain coming down outside. This time Mike decided to use the shadow element. Some people called the shadow element darkness, mistakenly confusing it with the element of death. This was fundamentally wrong. The shadow could do no harm, at most confusion and loss of orientation in space. Although the shadow element was usually used for surveillance and espionage.

It took Mike some time to create a connection first with his shadow and then with the surrounding darkness. The shadow line slowly changed shape, forming a tentacle on the surface of the bunk and then on the surface of the wall, and it slowly moved toward the window. Mike slowly plunged his consciousness into the surrounding darkness.

Colonel Timothy de Rogan stood near the open window in his cabinet and smoked a cigar. Outside the window, it was drizzling rain. His office was a small one in a corner of the building with two windows, a small desk, and two pairs of chairs for visitors.

There was a knock on the door and then his secretary walked in. She looked at the open window and then at the colonel standing with a cigar.

"Colonel, sir, you have a visitor," she told him.

"Who?" Asked the Colonel.

"The gentleman introduced himself as Louie de Wolfe," she replied.

"De Wolfe?" The colonel asked again.

"Yes? sir," replied the secretary.

"And why is he even here," puzzled the colonel, but he immediately extinguished his cigar. "Send him here in a minute." The colonel closed the window and returned to his chair at his desk. The door opened and a young man in an expensive black suit with silver embroidery and a cane entered the office.

"Please have a seat," the colonel indicated his guest to a vacant chair.

"Thank you," said the guest as he sat down.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit," the colonel then asked. "It's not often we get a visit from your clan or you are from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs."

"Allow me to introduce myself. I am Louie de Wolfe, representing exclusively the interests of my clan and not the Ministry of Foreign Affairs."

"Interesting," the colonel wondered. "And what does the de Wolfe clan want from the humble, me. Or do you want something from the Clan de Rogan?"

"Well, don't make yourself scarce, Colonel," chuckled Louie. "You can really help us."

Captain Anderson went into the reception room to see Colonel Timothy de Rogan. Seeing him, the secretary said.

"The colonel has important visitors. He asked not to be disturbed."

"How long have they been talking?" Anderson asked.

"About twenty minutes now," she replied.

"I'll sit down and wait, then."

"Well, yes. All right, but I don't know how long they'll be talking."

"No problem, I'll wait."

He had to wait quite a while until finally the door to the cabinet opened and the colonel and his guest came out.

"Mr. de Wolfe, I will personally escort you to the exit," the colonel addressed his guest.

"Thank you," his guest thanked him.

The colonel noticed Anderson sitting down.

"You are here to see me?"

"Yes," Anderson replied.

"Fine, wait. I'll be right back."

Anderson stayed waiting and after a short time, the colonel returned.

"Come in," he gestured for the captain to come in.

When they were seated in their seats. The colonel asked.

"So, what did you want Anderson."

"I was referring to the incident on the fifteenth evening with the death of Lieutenant…"

"You too," the colonel interrupted him. "You're not the first person to come to me with this today," he sighed.

"Your guest?" Asked Anderson.

"And him too."

"May I ask…"

"No, you may not," the colonel interrupted him again. "You stay out of this."

"Sir, is it that bad?"

"And what do you think?"

"I think this case stinks a lot," Anderson replied. "It's full of inconsistencies. And this arrested man, supposedly an emigrant, who's posing as a member of the de Graaf clan."

"I told you to stay out of it."

"But I need to send at least two requests. To the Clan de Graaf and the Ministry of Foreign Intelligence."

"Well, write them up, bring them to me, and I'll send them," the colonel sighed. "Anything else?"

"I'd like to have a personal interview with the subjects of this case."

"No!" The colonel raised his voice. "Don't you dare get involved in this case! Besides, you're not in charge of it. Miller is."

"Is that an official order?"

"Yes, damn you! I'm ordering you to stay out of this case!"