Lin Jie had thought that, with Marcus—the reluctant "bodyguard"—along, his first assignment would begin in awkward silence.
But when he had finished packing all his gear early the next morning and was ready to set out for West India Docks, he realized that I.A.R.C. was far more "concerned" about him—or, rather, far less "confident" in him—than he had imagined.
Barton appeared once again at the inn's entrance.
And there was a stranger beside him.
He was a white man who looked to be around forty. He wasn't particularly tall, but he was exceptionally stocky.
His face was weathered, and an old knife scar running from his brow to the corner of his mouth gave him a distinctly fierce air.
His eyes were as still as a deep pool, betraying no emotion. When he saw Lin Jie, he merely raised an eyelid slightly, offering no further acknowledgment.
He wore a practical khaki hunting outfit. In the holster at his waist sat a Colt Single Action Army revolver with an exceptionally long barrel, a weapon renowned at the time for its accuracy and power.
Most striking of all was the soldierly bearing that seemed innate to him.
Even standing casually, he held his back perfectly straight. He was like a rifle ready to fire at any moment, radiating a restrained, dangerous strength.
"Mr. Lin, allow me to introduce you." Barton smiled, breaking the silence. "This is Sergeant William Keane, a Level Five investigator with the Association. He'll be your partner for this assignment, joining you in investigating West India Docks."
A partner?
Lin Jie furrowed his brow.
He looked at Barton, silently questioning him.
They had agreed yesterday that Lin Jie would handle the assignment alone, with Marcus staying out of the investigation and keeping watch from a distance as his bodyguard. Why had another partner suddenly appeared today?
Barton read his thoughts and explained without missing a beat, "This is the headquarters' latest decision. They believe that, given your outstanding analytical skills and relatively... limited field experience, assigning you an experienced combat operative is the more sensible arrangement."
"That will ensure the assignment's success and help you learn the basic procedures of a hunter's work more quickly."
He added, "Don't worry. Under the Free Hunter Agreement, you'll still be the 'tactical lead' of this temporary team during the assignment."
"Sergeant William's role is to provide combat support, carry out your plans, and, when necessary, correct any unrealistic 'rookie ideas' you might have. He won't interfere with your core decisions."
It was a carefully worded explanation. It emphasized Lin Jie's leadership while making clear that his new partner would serve as both an "instructor" and a "muscle."
Lin Jie knew this was another test of his abilities by the Association.
Having a battle-hardened veteran assess the mettle of an "Interpreter" like him at close range was undoubtedly the most direct and effective approach.
Lin Jie didn't object.
Until he proved himself through his abilities, any protest would be futile.
He turned and held out his hand to the sergeant named William.
"Hello, I'm Lin Jie. I hope we work well together."
William's calm, fathomless eyes rested on Lin Jie for a moment.
He didn't shake Lin Jie's hand. Instead, he said in a clipped tone, "Just call me William. During the assignment, stay close, don't wander off, and don't make unnecessary noise. If we run into danger, get down and leave the rest to me."
Having delivered these words, which were more like orders, he said nothing else, as if he had completed all the conversation he intended to have.
The veteran's pride and distrust of rookies, ingrained down to his bones, were impossible to miss.
When Marcus saw William, the constipated look on his face eased considerably.
He patted Lin Jie on the shoulder with such force that Lin Jie nearly stumbled.
"Kid, you're in luck. Sergeant William's one of the best 'trackers' in our London branch."
"Back when he fought the Zulus in South Africa, he once tracked a combat unit across the plains for three days and nights on his own. With him around, you can count your life as saved."
A veteran of the Zulu War? Lin Jie felt a flicker of apprehension.
It was a colonial war notorious for its bloodshed and brutality. Anyone who had survived that kind of hell was no pushover.
The taciturn Sergeant William was probably far more dangerous than his own blunt, boorish "bodyguard," Marcus.
And so, a peculiar temporary team of three was officially formed.
A Chinese newcomer serving as the "tactical brain," whose field skills remained a mystery.
A British veteran serving as the "combat expert," who deeply distrusted newcomers.
And a hulking guardian serving as the "last line of insurance," who only wanted to watch the show.
They rode in a carriage, making the silent journey to their destination—West India Docks.
Unlike the bustle of central London, this was a vast steel forest of towering warehouses and crisscrossing railway tracks.
The air was thick with a peculiar blend of seawater, coal smoke, and spices, tea, and timber shipped from distant colonies.
Even in daylight, the place seemed somewhat empty and oppressive. The enormous warehouses crouched along the River Thames like silent beasts.
Their first stop was the office of the United Spice and Textile Company, mentioned in the assignment.
There, a distraught manager received them.
Lin Jie and the others concealed their I.A.R.C. affiliation, posing as "private detectives" hired by one of the company's major shareholders to investigate the thefts.
The manager led them to Warehouse No. 3, where the incident had occurred.
It was a massive building of red brick and steel, several stories tall and seemingly impregnable.
A huge brass lock hung on the warehouse door, with a Scotland Yard seal affixed to it.
"This is the place, gentlemen." The manager wiped the sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief, his voice trembling slightly. "Ever since Billy, our last night watchman, disappeared last week, no one's dared go near it at night."
"When we counted the goods during the day, we found that... more things had gone missing from the warehouse. But the lock and all the windows showed no signs of tampering. Those things just... just grew legs and ran away!"
Lin Jie didn't enter the warehouse right away.
He circled the huge building, carefully inspecting its exterior.
William followed silently behind him, his calm eyes scrutinizing every detail of their surroundings like a falcon's.
Lin Jie noticed a few small ventilation windows high up on the warehouse. They were fitted with iron bars, but the gaps between them weren't completely impassable.
He also found a drainage outlet in the rear wall of the warehouse, leading to an underground water system beneath the docks.
An iron grille blocked the entrance, but several bars at the bottom seemed to have been bent out of shape by some unknown force.
None of Lin Jie's findings escaped William's notice.
When Lin Jie's gaze lingered on the drainage outlet, William finally spoke for the first time.
"There are scratches on the grille. They're fresh. Not rust—some kind of metal, or... hard claws left them." He crouched and rubbed a finger through the dirt at the bottom of the grille, then held it beneath his nose and sniffed. "There's something in the soil. A mixture of something like machine oil and rot. Very faint, but it's there."
Lin Jie looked at William in surprise.
He hadn't expected the veteran to be not only experienced in combat, but also so perceptive and skilled at tracking.
The basic analysis he had just done seemed amateurish beside William's professional inspection.
William didn't seem to notice Lin Jie's surprise.
He stood, brushed the dirt from his hands, and looked at Lin Jie. "Now, Detective, you've seen what you wanted to see. Tell me, what's your plan?"
He was asking Lin Jie as though he were the one making the decisions.
This was more than just a question. It was a test.
Lin Jie met his calm, pressuring gaze and took a deep breath.
Every word he said next would determine whether his taciturn partner became his most reliable support—or an onlooker who questioned him at every turn.
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