Chapter 13

"Should I have let her shoot?"

Leon put the revolver back in the drawer and closed it. He didn’t lock it with a key.

Theft would be a slightly bigger crime.

Moreover, disobeying the master’s orders might be a grave sin within the walls of this mansion. It could provide a pretext for dragging him to the torture chamber, violating principles.

Leon twisted his lips and narrowed his eyes sharply. The bloodstain, fading to a pale gray, held his gaze.

Perhaps it wasn’t because of his eyes. It might just be the smell of blood. Would his desire boil up like this if any other woman smelled of blood?

What a terrible taste.

He stood up with a bitter smile. The carpet was in a terrible state, littered with broken ashtray fragments and ashes. The maid would grumble about him as she cleaned up this mess tomorrow morning.

Leon dropped the unfolded letter, his message to the maid, on the carpet where it would be clearly visible.

***

Sunlight gently filtered through the woolly clouds. The chestnut hair, scattered by the wind, shimmered copper in the broken sunlight.

It was a day perfect for an outing. The unpredictable April weather, no less capricious than Winston, might still have some surprises in store.

Hailwood, the nearest town to the Winston estate, was a ten-minute bike ride away. Sally parked her bicycle in front of a three-story brick building after passing a general store with a large discount sign.

Just as the lunch break seemed to be ending, the postmaster, who was turning the "Closed" sign to "Open," caught her eye. The middle-aged man adjusted his glasses with his index finger, nodded at Sally, and promptly opened the door.

"Good afternoon, Miss Bristol."

"Hello."

Sally hesitated as she stepped inside. The small town post office had four employees, including the postmaster, but today there were only three.

"Is Mr. Peter on his day off?"

"Today, the mail train is late, so he’s at the station."

Peter, disguised as a mailman, roamed the town all day but always ate lunch here. She had deliberately timed her visit, but he happened to be absent today.

She had brought the money she obtained from Winston yesterday to send to headquarters as funds. If she entrusted the transfer to Peter, he would handle it in a way that couldn’t be traced. It would be risky to tell other employees, even if it was fake information, about the recipient.

"He’ll be back soon, ha ha."

As Sally sighed, gripping the old bag strap, the postmaster rubbed his long mustache and laughed. The post office staff thought Sally had a rosy affection for Peter.

Not a chance.

Though she dressed plainly for her mission, her eye for men wasn’t so simple.

'Should I pass some time and come back?'

If she walked past two more buildings, she would reach Madame Benoît’s café. Just as she was considering a small indulgence, a middle-aged woman entered the crowded post office with three children.

The place soon became noisy with the voices of the woman and the children. Sally, about to leave, instead entered the phone booth in the corner.

She firmly closed the door and glanced out through the small glass window. Everyone was busy with their own affairs and didn’t pay any attention to her.

Sally perched on the corner of a chair and opened her bag to find her wallet. She sighed as she picked up four large coins, not enough for a long-distance call, which was expensive but necessary for this important matter.

She lifted the earpiece, which resembled a candlestick, to her ear and inserted the coins. As she dialed, a young woman’s clear voice rang in her ear.

[Long-distance call.]

"Hello, this is Blackburn from Hailwood."

Sally leaned into the microphone attached to the phone. Blackburn, the name she gave to the operator, was a code for a withdrawal request.

"Please connect me to Crawford 1499 in Breton."

She then provided the area name and the exchange company of the recipient.

[Please wait a moment.]

The operator’s voice was followed by a long series of mechanical clicks.

Sally anxiously peeked outside the booth. The woman with the children, having finished posting her package, started chatting with the woman behind the counter. She hoped it would be noisy for at least ten more minutes.

'Yeah, she’s worth a kick in the pants.'

While idly tapping along to the chatter seeping into the booth, she rubbed the worn-out buckle of her bag, which had faded from constant use. Suddenly, someone burst into the post office.

Thinking it might be Peter, she lifted her head and heard a familiar voice.

[Blackburn from Hailwood?]

Her fiancé didn’t ask who she was and immediately recited the withdrawal code.

"Yes."

[...What? You?]

He sounded quite surprised, perhaps expecting to hear Peter or Fred’s voice from Hailwood.

[What’s up?]

He went straight to the point without any greeting, knowing the operator might still be listening. The conversation continued in vague terms, avoiding any names.

"I want to go home."

Jimmy would understand. The whiny tone was just an act; Sally never acted like a child.

[Why? What about your mother’s hospital bills?]

'Mother’s hospital bills' was a code for 'your mission.'

"My employer is strange."

[Strange? What do you mean?]

"Have you forgotten what I said before I came here?"

He couldn’t have forgotten the warning drilled into his head about the encounter with Winston on the beach in Abingdon when they were young. A long sigh came from the other end.

[But you haven’t been fired yet.]

Meaning, you haven’t been caught, so it’s not exposed.

"I might be fired soon."

[No, don’t give up. You’re doing well. There’s no evidence, right?]

Sally sighed deeply into the microphone.

[We need you.]

Jimmy knew exactly what words would affect his fiancée the most. They had grown up together since childhood, like siblings.

"But…"

Sally took a deep breath and paused. She didn’t want to tell anyone, especially her fiancé, but she had to. After a moment’s hesitation, she closed her eyes tightly and confessed.

"Yesterday, he tried to assault me."

Silence followed on the other end. What thoughts were running through his mind, five hours away by train?

Worry for his almost-raped lover? A resolve to immediately rescue her from Winston’s dirty clutches? Anger at the filthy beast who tried to violate his fiancée?

Or, disappointment that a comrade had failed the mission by attracting unwanted attention from the target?

[Really?]

All wrong. Sally burst with frustrated anger.

"Would I lie about something like this?"

[No, I didn’t mean that. It just doesn’t fit the guy I know.]

Jimmy, the leader of the revolutionaries, couldn’t be unaware of Winston’s characteristics, a top-level target. Despite his despicable methods, Winston was consistently known to be clean in one aspect. That’s why Jimmy had confidently sent his fiancée to Winston’s base.

But now, for the first time, Sally’s statement contradicted the consistent information. She knew it was hard to believe, regardless of her disappointment.

Sally added to intensify the sense of crisis.

"He took what I had hidden in my skirt."

[...But you weren’t fired?]

"That’s why it’s more dangerous."

Winston was treating her differently. She couldn’t predict his next move.

Sally waited silently for Jimmy’s response, pondering whether to share more. Should she tell him that Winston not only drank her blood yesterday but also left evidence of his crime on the floor of his office with a blood-stained handkerchief?

Even though her fiancé was like family, such a story was too humiliating.

"I don’t have time."

The call would soon run out of credit. A heavy sigh came from the other end, and Jimmy gave her instructions in a soothing voice.

[Go to a friend’s house. I’ll talk to the adults and call you back.]

He needed to discuss with the officers and wait at a safe house in Winsford, an hour away by train. Sally hung up and stepped out of the booth.

Should she send the money later? Peter still hadn’t returned. She nodded to the postmaster and headed out of the post office.