It was still dark when Jorgen and Elin came to the post office. The manager looked like he had just woken up, but was impeccably dressed as if he was going to attend some government meeting. There was only one exit, the front door. The ten guards provided by Hennessy were hiding nearby.
Jorgen ordered the manager, "If the person picking up the letter comes, you just need to turn around and look out the window. We'll handle the rest. Other than that, don't do anything. Understand?"
"Understood, sir. Do I need to, uh, 'stall him'? I have acted in three amateur plays before, I think I can use some verbal tricks to..."
"What did I just say?"
"Other than turning around to look out the window, don't do anything."
"Good. Remember that. If there is a mistake and he gets away, we can wait for the next opportunity, but you will have to pay a price."
The manager tightened his collar and coughed uncomfortably.
Jorgen left the room and hid with Elin on the second floor of the building opposite, where they had a clear view of the inside of the post office. The hiding positions of the guards were also carefully designed to allow them to communicate with hand signals in a timely manner.
"So," Elin said, "do you think we'll have any success?"
"Hard to say. Whoever he is, he should know what was said in Fordahl's letter. My suggestion is not to be too hopeful."
"Don't be too hopeful about anything when you enter Military Intelligence Section 7."
Jorgen looked at Elin. "Where did you hear that from? Sir Hackman?"
"That's right, he used to be my mentor."
"He was my mentor too. Why didn't I see you before? Which class were you in?"
"I forgot, it doesn't matter, because I was expelled before the end of training. The reason was 'lack of self-control'. Later, Sir Hackman forced me into the task force of a major case, and I was lucky enough to make some contributions so I could stay in Military Intelligence Section 7. In fact, I was planning to go home and inherit my family ranch."
"So you were the only one who did not graduate from the training camp but stayed to work in Military Intelligence Section 7. I've heard about that before."
"A terrible reputation. Much worse than your title: 'the golden boy personally discovered by Dean Shawl'." You were the only one in the training camp to get an A in all projects." How does it feel to work with someone like me, an honors student?"
Elin tapped Jorgen on the shoulder with his knuckle.
"Come on. Every so-called honors student in Military Intelligence Section 7 is a monster to ordinary people."
"At least you're still sane."
"Temporarily. I heard that Sir Hackman later committed suicide. Do you know what happened? It sounds like you were quite close with him."
"Suicide? I'd say it was more like a murder."
"Why do you say that?"
"His beautiful wife and two daughters were killed," Elin sniffed. "The killer was one of his best students. He couldn't bear the pain and hanged himself in his own bathroom. This should be classified as indirect murder. Not many people know about this, I shouldn't have told you. But it doesn't matter, we're in the same boat now. "
Jorgen couldn't help but imagine the tall, burly and stern Sir Hackman putting a rope around his own neck in the bathroom, how he tied the knot and placed the footstool. The man had taught Jorgen how to interrogate suspects, emphasizing "learn to control your emotions", but it seemed he had forgotten how to control his own emotions. Would he have expected the phrase "don't be too hopeful about anything" to become the best footnote to his own death?
"Alright." Jorgen said. "Let's focus on the present."
They waited all day but gained nothing. Not to mention the mysterious man picking up the letter, they didn't even find anyone with suspicious behavior. The manager sat upright nervously all day, and by the end of the day he was so stiff that he could barely twist his joints.
"Go back and rest well," Jorgen told him. "We'll come back tomorrow. To be honest, you don't have to be so nervous."
"You did great. Really." Elin patted the manager on the shoulder. The manager smiled awkwardly, the enthusiasm he had shown at the beginning of the day had long since vanished.
"So," Elin said to Jorgen, "a wasted day. Do you have any plans?"
"Find a place to eat, go back and sleep."
"As expected of an honors student - alright, I won't use that term again, don't look at me like that. I may have to take care of that little brat when I get back to the Red Salmon Inn. May the Holy Light bless me, I hope Mardias is asleep when I get back."
Hearing him say that, Jorgen suddenly remembered that he hadn't figured out one critical thing.
"Did you reveal your true identity to Dalia? Tell her that you were actually..."
"Yes, I told her. It didn't affect her much. She's an amazing woman who has seen the world, the betrayal of a male nanny means nothing. You should know her better than me. See you tomorrow, Jorgen."
On his way back, Jorgen turned into the hotel where he had met Shelley again and intended to eat something.
"Long time no see, Mr. Jorgen. How's the case investigation going?" The boss said as he brought the fish soup.
"That's none of your business."
"I mean...that guest register, have you finished using it yet? It's not a big problem because I can just get a new book to record as I'm doing now...but the old one, I still really need it for the monthly statement at the end of the month..."
In fact, after David was cleared, the register was of no use, and Jorgen had almost forgotten about it.
"I'll return it to you tomorrow. I don't need it anymore."
"Oh, thank you in advance, Mr. Jorgen. Enjoy your dinner, I told the chef to add special spices for you. Would you like something to drink?"
Jorgen was not much of a drinker and had never gotten drunk for professional reasons. But today he suddenly decided to numb his head. The work and encounters of the past few days had indeed tired him out. He wanted to temporarily wipe out the murderer, victim, clues and pick them up again later. Cover your eyes and pretend not to see this mess, let the darkness protect you. Another phrase Sir Hackman loved to say to students.
Half an hour later, he walked out of the hotel and looked up to find that it was already dark. When his gaze returned to the horizontal, he saw Shelley standing in front of him. Judging from Shelley's expression, she was somewhat surprised by this accidental meeting - but she was even more surprised by Jorgen's untimely tone.
"We meet again."
"Yes, Jorgen...you seem to have had a lot to drink? Rare to see."
Jorgen could clearly feel Shelley's discomfort. The thought that "she feels uncomfortable with me" was unbearable to him.
"Of course, the last time you saw me drunk was four years ago...Really, Shelley. Why do we always have to say such nonsense?"
Without waiting for Shelley to respond, Jorgen grabbed her wrist and pulled her into the alley away from the hotel entrance.
"Let go, Jorgen. You're hurting me."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you what?"
"Do I have to spell it out? About you and David. Maybe it's not too late to call you Mrs. Langston now?"
"We're not married yet."
"Alright, tell me what difference it makes. Think about what I said when we met again, it sounded like 'haven't seen you in four years, she's single, I'm not too late' and so on. Why couldn't we just put the facts out? If you wanted me to release David, you should have just said 'he's my fiance'. That would have done it, no other hints needed."
Four years ago, four years ago...I'm tired of spewing this nonsense from my own mouth. I want now.
"I don't know what to say..."
"Of course, it's all my fault because I seemed to still want something from you, troubling you. Is this explanation okay?"
"You're drunk, Jorgen. You..."
"I don't care. Come with me, Shelley."
"Where to?"
"To where I'm staying. I have something to show you. Something I've kept for four years. It's on the table by my bed."
"I'm not going."
"Of course, I know you won't come with me, 'Mrs. Langston'. To be honest, four years ago I hadn't learned how to force people to give false testimony and such, now I can do all kinds of tricks. What, are you angry? Do I look like I'm going to hurt you? Or are you planning to give me a kiss to make up, or..."
Jorgen clearly felt his mouth corner slapped over by a finger. This slap was more of a slap on the chin than on the face.
"A slap."
"Why have you become so mean, Jorgen? Listen, I don't know anything about me and David, and maybe you don't know me as well as you think. Now I have to go, I have things to do."
Shelley turned and left, and Jorgen did not chase after her. She was right. The only thing I learned at Military Intelligence Section 7 is how to be mean to people. Mean to prisoners, mean to colleagues, mean to myself. The trick to handling things this way is to push people to the limit so you can get what you need.
But I don't want to do that to you, no matter what, Jorgen thought. He just watched Shelley's back disappear, then felt an urge to curse himself. Damn it!
The way back to the inn seemed longer than before. That slap didn't sober him up much, but when he found the door slightly ajar upon reaching his room, Jorgen was almost completely sober. He would never make such a low-level mistake as not locking the door.
Jorgen pulled out his dagger and peered through the crack in the door first, seeing nothing unusual. He pushed open the door and immediately sensed a black figure dropping straight down from above. Almost at the same time, two blades struck at his neck from left to right, like a pair of closing scissors.
Jorgen immediately placed his dagger across his neck before the attacking blades. The blades were blocked by the blade and metal handle of the dagger, making a clear collision sound. Their distance was close enough to leave marks on his skin. The attacker was wearing a wide-brimmed hat as the post office manager had said, but that did not prevent Jorgen from making out his features.
"Nicely done. Looks like even when drunk, you know your limits."
"As expected, it's you," Jorgen said. "Dean."