A silver-gray private car was parked at the entrance of Green Tile Alley.
The man in a suit and leather shoes sat in the driver's seat, he lowered his head, and handed a blanket to the back seat, "Director."
Harper Bennett took the blanket and draped it over herself.
The rain outside had not stopped yet.
She took out a mirror from her bag and carefully examined her face, which closely resembled Linda Roberts. The ladies from the Imperial Residence always said Linda Roberts had a face that particularly appealed to men.
Isn't this face pretty enough? Wyatt Wright wouldn't even give her a proper look.
Harper Bennett put away the mirror, "Back to the company."
The car drove out of the alley.
Harper Bennett stepped on the cultural shirt that Daniel Turner had given her and put on her earphones.
At nine o'clock and eight minutes that morning, Linda Roberts had made a phone call with Cyril Atkins.
"Where's my money and the boat ticket?"
