The fat man named Descartes gave a shy smile and walked to the corner of the café. He sat across from Loha and was about to speak when he noticed the waitress had followed him. Smiling, she asked, "Mr. Loha, is this the friend you were waiting for?"
Loha nodded helplessly. "Yes. Oh, right, we should order."
Descartes nodded with a guileless look, like a shut-in who wasn't much good at socializing. But a flash of cold impatience crossed his eyes.
"What's with that woman?" Once the waitress had left, Descartes lowered his voice. "Have you forgotten our rules of operation?"
"I can't help it," Loha said. "Lady Xika told me to watch this contact point. Who knew that every time I came, she'd try to talk to me? I filed a request to change locations, but it's been a week and I still haven't heard back."
Descartes frowned. Since the battle at Edis Prison, the network they had spent years building in Stinnard had been almost wiped out. Revolutionary Army intelligence agents found it harder than ever to operate in the Royal Capital, and it was all that damned Wood Slater's fault. That butcher was a Demon.
Descartes knew the Revolutionary Army Intelligence Department's situation. Few contact points remained. Loha could file ten more requests and still wouldn't be moved. A cold killing intent flashed in Descartes's eyes as he watched the waitress approach with a tray and a beaming smile. If she kept pestering Loha, she might expose him. If it came to that, he would eliminate her.
Descartes disliked killing innocents. He believed in the revolution and hoped to overthrow the Kingdom's brutal rule so its suffering people could find freedom and happiness. But his instructor had once told him that great goals inevitably demanded sacrifice, and