In mid-September, England's rainy season seemed to have arrived a little early again. A light drizzle began falling on London's streets, which had once been shrouded in cold mist. Pedestrians with umbrellas hurried along, as though everyone had silently agreed not to linger outside.
Ever since dense fog had appeared across England in July, everyone had clearly sensed that something was wrong. Especially after two months of frequent strange occurrences, the dark cloud hanging over everyone's hearts had never lifted.
Among the hurried pedestrians, a middle-aged man carrying an umbrella and a briefcase stopped. He tucked the briefcase from his left hand beneath his right arm, pulled a slip of paper from his suit pocket, and carefully read the name on it. Then he looked around, seemingly searching for something. Soon, his eyes lit up. He stuffed the note back into his pocket, picked up his briefcase, and strode ahead. Before long, he turned into a café two storefronts away.
While folding up his umbrella and placing it in the umbrella stand, Bill, disguised as a middle-aged man, surveyed the café. He spotted a blond man in the corner, nodded politely and smiled at the waitress to indicate he was meeting someone, then headed toward the table.
"I hope I haven't kept you waiting too long."
Bill greeted the unfamiliar man reading a newspaper across from him.
In truth, it was a passphrase between them. No matter who arrived late, they would say those words.
"No, I just got here."
The man lowered his newspaper and made an inviting gesture to Bill with a smile. "Then let's begin!"
Once the passphrase checked out, Bill breathed a sigh of relief.
He sat down across from Albert, who was disguised as a blond middle-aged man.
"Take a look at this first."
Albert