Bailonz Street 13

Chapter 166. Secrets (3)

“Miss Jane.”

Gazes turned toward me. After exchanging brief greetings with everyone, I sought out someone who was usually close with Rick Sloughton. A middle-aged lady.

“Miss Jane, it’s been a while.”

“I’ve been busy with various matters. I might not be able to come often for a while again.”

“What a shame. We’ve received so many interesting books.”

Cutting off her attempt to continue the conversation, I asked.

“You know Rick Sloughton well, don’t you?”

The lady’s eyes widened as she answered.

“Busy?”

“Well, he is a distinguished medical professor.”

I asked the lady for Rick Sloughton’s address. After some hesitation, she gave me one. When I checked it, it was a university in central London.

“A university?”

“I told you he’s a professor. Of course he’s at a university.”

Ah. This isn’t good. A potential drug criminal teaching young minds at a London university? It felt wrong. Did his students respect him?

I slowly left and returned to the carriage where Liam Moore waited.

“I got the address.”

Medical School, 3rd floor research lab.

Liam fell into deep thought at these words. While I always deduce and interpret things within normal human capacity, Liam’s brain operated on a different level. When he chose to, he could think from a criminal’s perspective. Even now, he must be seeing things I hadn’t noticed.

After a long while, he finally spoke. His grey eyes held certainty.

“Let’s go. We’ve hired this carriage for the day anyway.”

* * *

Unfortunately, we were thrown out of Rick Sloughton’s research lab within thirty seconds of our visit. Rick Sloughton shouted at the top of his lungs, gesturing for us to get out. Really, how rude. Had this person never learned basic London gentleman’s manners?

But we weren’t the type to be discouraged by something like this. His aggressive attitude was strange in itself. I remembered him always lounging lazily with books at the Leximion Association. Someone who barely responded when spoken to—why would he suddenly act like a madman just at the mention of a name in the ledger?

“Something smells.”

Liam flinched at my muttering.

“…Do I smell?”

“No, not you.”

Oh, what to do with this adorable fool. I wanted to shower him with kisses regardless of who was watching, but I maintained my dignity.

“It’s suspicious, isn’t it? Someone who was polite until we asked our question suddenly flies off the handle at one name? It’s strange no matter how you look at it. Unless he’s feeling guilty and reacting that way…”

We immediately returned to the carriage and staked out nearby.

Around four in the afternoon, Rick Sloughton hurriedly left through the back door. Not even the main entrance, but a side door! I had a feeling about this. He immediately hailed a carriage and headed somewhere.

The driver seemed to understand our intention without us saying anything. He began following Sloughton’s carriage skillfully, maintaining a consistent distance.

* * *

The place where Rick Sloughton stopped was a residential area. A quiet street lined with two-story brick houses.

After briefly looking around, he opened a door and went in. His behavior looked very suspicious.

The strangest thing was that all the second-floor windows of this house were boarded up. Moreover, they were sealed from the outside, making it impossible to open them from inside.

What reason could there be to board up the windows of a perfectly normal house like that? I couldn’t think of any.

Liam and I went around to the back of the house and fortunately found an open window. Liam went in first, then I squeezed through after him.

The house was silent. It didn’t seem lived in. Clearly rented for some other purpose. Proving this, there was no furniture at all inside. A trading location perhaps? That’s what I thought.

We looked around very carefully and found stairs leading both to the basement and second floor. I gestured to Liam. Understanding my intent to go upstairs, he crouched low and climbed the steps.

The second-floor corridor had multiple doors in a row like a hotel, most of them metal doors that could be locked from outside. Moreover, they had small viewing windows like prison doors, allowing someone outside to check inside. Like somewhere meant to keep things locked up.

I carefully opened a viewing window. It was dark inside. With the windows boarded up, there was no light at all. As I opened the window completely to look more closely, I met eyes staring at us from inside. I fell backward in surprise at the sudden appearance of a pair of eyes.

“Ah!”

I nearly fainted. Anyone would react that way seeing empty eyes gleaming in the darkness.

Liam held my waist and backed away slightly. A thin arm reached out through the viewing window. The gesture seemed very familiar. A child, looking no more than mid-teens even being generous, was reaching out their hand.

Catching my breath, I asked the child.

“How… old are you?”

The child didn’t answer. They just held out their arm listlessly. Only then did I think to examine the extended arm. Leaning in slightly to look, I could see the skin was tattered with needle marks. White scars were covered with new bruises from more needle pricks. Without a doubt, someone had been continuously injecting drugs.

Call it a leap, but seeing this compliant attitude toward strangers, one could guess how often these children faced such ‘visitors’ without being told.

The other rooms were the same. Every time we opened a viewing window, there were children. Feeling sick to my stomach, I backed away.

“How…”

How could they do this?

These children didn’t seem to be here voluntarily. If they were, they wouldn’t need to be locked up. The resigned looks on their faces, as if prepared for what would happen next, were not the kind that children who had lived barely a dozen years should show.

Liam muttered.

“I see now. I understand.”

He took me down the stairs. I thought we might leave to call Inspector Jefferson, but Liam had other ideas. He strode toward the basement. He didn’t try to hide his footsteps on the stairs, rather stomping down as if wanting the sound to be heard.

Then he kicked the door open and drew his revolver.

“Hands up.”

Liam Moore was not someone who easily lost his temper. His anger was usually very cold and quiet, never boiling over to frighten those around him. However, right now Liam Moore was literally burning with rage.

Rick Sloughton, the supposedly distinguished medical doctor, raised his hands and slowly backed away. Being in the basement, there was nowhere to run. We were blocking the only exit.

Behind him was what looked like an operating table, with someone tied to it. A teenager in their mid to late teens. Only then could I grasp the true nature of this grim and horrible basement.

The basement interior looked identical to a laboratory. The desk was lined with mysterious vials, and used syringes lay scattered about. There was a furnace in one corner, with piles of old clothes stacked in front of it.

Liam Moore spoke in a low voice. Though his words were gentle and measured, they would surely terrify the listener.

“Rick Sloughton. Do you know Emma?”

“Y-you’re the ones who came to the university!”

“I’m asking you. Do you know Emma?”

“I don’t! I don’t know!”

Don’t know? Liam muttered. He looked like his eyes might roll back. I was worried that Liam might turn living evidence into ‘formerly living’ evidence. But fortunately, Liam Moore seemed to retain that much rationality. Though it was worn very thin.

He took a step forward. Sloughton trembled as he looked around, then aimed a syringe.

“Stay back!”

“Emma, Barnes, Harry, Danny. I wondered what all these names meant. Usually drug addicts use one location consistently, making them easy to track. Most people remember if you ask ‘Do you know someone who comes every day?’ But you were different. Why did you buy opium from so many different people?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know those names!”

“Then I thought. Ah. What if what you bought wasn’t the opium, but the owners of these names? That ledger was a registry of people. Coming here confirmed that theory.”

Ah. I was beginning to understand. The outline of the case was slowly taking shape.

“There are children locked up upstairs. Their arms are covered in injection marks. What did you inject them with? What did you inject that destroyed them so thoroughly?”

“Listen, Mr. Moore! I was just trying to treat sick children!”

“Treatment? This abomination?”

Liam ground his teeth.

“What happened to the owners of those clothes? Answer me, Rick Sloughton.”

Now everything fits. The ledger we found in the opium den. That ledger wasn’t a record of drug sales. …It was a human trafficking ledger.

Numerous people were buying children through the opium dens. Since kidnapping would leave a trail, they used covert routes.

I felt like vomiting.

Liam released the safety on his gun. He was already moving forward, leaving no time to stop him.

“Wait, Liam!”Nôv(el)B\\jnn

Bang!

A gunshot rang out. I squeezed my eyes shut.