Ch.533Episode 20 – Who Threatened You with a Knife?
by fnovelpia
What seemed like a smooth train journey took an unexpected turn less than a day after it began.
It all started with Camilla’s report.
“Someone died, they say?”
She claimed to have witnessed something suspicious while returning from the bathroom.
A body was being removed from the train, and armed police officers had boarded.
“Natural causes?”
“No. It looked like murder.”
I closed the book I was reading and accessed the company’s internal network. Intelligence related to the Mauritanian continent instantly flooded the screen.
When I quietly extended the terminal, Camilla quickly took a seat.
“I’ll give you a communicator, so wait here. If the police come to inspect, hide the terminal discreetly.”
“Where are you going?”
I simultaneously turned the buckles on my travel bag in opposite directions.
Opening the perfectly aligned seam to reveal a hidden pocket, I pulled out a cold-forged knife.
I concealed the 5.7-inch blade inside my jacket.
“Just taking a stroll around the neighborhood.”
Episode 20 – Who Threatened Whom with a Knife
The defining characteristic of Middle Eastern oil-producing countries’ airlines is, needless to say, their service.
Subtly wider seat spacing, sophisticated lounges, friendly flight attendants, delicious in-flight meals, and so on.
It’s a natural progression given that governments pump massive subsidies and tax benefits into airlines based on oil money, but regardless, Middle Eastern airlines boasted superior service compared to any other airline I’d used before.
The train we boarded evoked nostalgia similar to using those Middle Eastern airlines.
Grand Duchess Alexandra securing Royal seats for us (roughly equivalent to first class on an airplane) was one reason, but primarily because the railway company was based in the wealthiest nation on the Mauritanian continent. A prosperous country overflowing with natural resources like oil and magic stones, with the royal family owning more than half the shares—making it essentially a royal enterprise—its service quality put even the finest Middle Eastern airlines to shame.
And now a murder had occurred on this very train.
“…Interesting.”
After leaving the Royal section, I quickly began scanning the radar.
“Hahaha!”
“Don’t run, dear. You might fall.”
“I’m going to the bathroom. Should I buy some lunch boxes on the way out?”
Despite the murder, the atmosphere on the train remained peaceful. Children ran freely through the corridors while adults sat indifferently, absorbed in their own activities.
No anxiety or unease could be detected in the passengers’ expressions. They were simply using the train’s stop as an opportunity to use the bathroom or visit the station for needs they hadn’t addressed earlier.
Checking my watch, I noticed we’d been stopped at the station for over 10 minutes longer than the average stop time, yet passengers seemed to notice nothing unusual. This was understandable.
The train attendants were running around frantically, providing service.
“Is everything to your satisfaction?”
“Let me refill your glass.”
“Please don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything. We’ll bring it right away.”
Dark clouds hung over the attendants’ faces.
A brown-skinned female attendant with a scarf moistened her dry lips, looking restless, while a dark-skinned Black man, presumably the chief steward, clutched a magical radio tightly and whispered to the gathered attendants.
“Police will board at this station and conduct inspections, but don’t answer if passengers ask why. The passengers absolutely must not know. Understood?”
“Yes…”
“By the way, Chief, who committed the crime?”
“I’m dying to know myself. I mean, what kind of person would use a cover to bash someone’s head—”
The steward stopped mid-sentence and gasped.
He quickly averted his gaze as I naturally moved to the connecting car.
The air froze momentarily at the unexpected intruder’s appearance. One of the attendants looked me over and began asking a non-question in Kiyen language with an awkward smile.
“Sir…? May I ask why you’re here?”
“Bathroom.”
When I answered in a deliberately curt tone, the attendant pointed to the opposite connecting car.
It was a polite instruction that the bathroom here was having issues and couldn’t be used, so I should please move to the next car, inconvenient as it might be.
I passed by the attendants gruffly, barely acknowledging them.
And instead of moving to the opposite connecting car, I flung open the bathroom door right in front of me.
“Sir! Just a moment!”
The attendants hurriedly approached to stop me, and as they pulled at my shoulder, I grumbled with an incredulous expression.
“What’s the problem? I’m in a hurry.”
“Please go to the other side. The other side.”
“What’s the big deal?”
“If you’d just follow us…”
And so I was practically pushed out of the connecting car.
It was quite amusing.
The attendants blocking access to the bathroom, the police officers occasionally visible through the train windows.
The broken bathroom mirror and the missing toilet tank cover.
“Well, well.”
It was truly a peculiar situation.
*
“It’s definitely murder. Looks like they killed them by striking with the toilet tank cover.”
-‘How can you be so sure?’
“Field assessment. You know.”
Sitting on the edge of the sink, I continued my muttering.
“The mirror in front of the sink was broken with hair, blood, and flesh fragments stuck in it. Considering the missing tank cover, the killer probably grabbed the victim’s head from behind, slammed it into the mirror to cause a concussion, then finished them off by striking the head with the tank cover.”
-‘Are you completely ruling out the possibility that another weapon was used?’
“I’d need to examine the body for details, but there were no traces of other weapons being used at the scene. Moreover, the attendants’ conversation mentioned something about the head.”
The attendants had continued discussing the murder among themselves for quite a while even after seeing me, probably thinking that as a pale foreigner, I wouldn’t understand the local language.
From their perspective, it was quite reasonable to assume so.
Foreigners who could afford expensive train tickets were typically businesspeople, corporate executives, or wealthy tourists.
“Anyway, this wasn’t an impulsive crime. It was a deliberate killing, and the technique was quite professional…”
-‘You mean they subdued the victim first rather than killing them during a struggle?’
“That seems highly likely.”
The scene was too clean to have been the site of a physical struggle.
Which meant the killer had eliminated the victim cleanly, without giving them a chance to fight back.
The only remaining question was:
Why kill them at all?
Camilla checked if the victim’s identity had been collected. However, there was no information about the train incident anywhere on the military intelligence network.
-‘It’s been less than an hour since the crime occurred. How could there possibly be any information yet?’
“Well, if you look hard enough, you’ll find something.”
I took out my work phone and called headquarters.
The staff member on standby immediately forwarded the news to the local branch, and after about 25 minutes, a message was delivered to me.
“Got the victim’s profile.”
-‘Already? What does it say?’
“Just a civilian, apparently?”
The victim’s profile, obtained through the police by the local branch, was clean to the point of being pristine.
Not military, police, or intelligence, not even a public official—just an ordinary company employee. Moreover, they had no connections to terrorist organizations, criminal groups, or warlords—just a regular citizen.
Upon hearing this, Camilla began speculating about conventional crime motives. Things like grudges or loan shark problems.
-‘Were there any debts?’
“Some bank loans, but they’re from legitimate financial institutions. The amount is large, but it was for real estate purchase, so nothing particularly suspicious.”
Above all, this person was an employee of a mid-sized company.
It could be a case where they borrowed heavily from loan sharks for gambling and were killed while trying to escape, but such people typically have enormous bank debts or are unable to get bank loans in the first place.
But the deceased was steadily employed and making interest payments, so it was difficult to see this as a money-related killing.
“It says they emigrated to another country 11 years ago to escape civil war.”
-‘They’re in their 30s. Someone who left their homeland in their early to mid-20s—could it really be connected to the civil war?’
“I’m not sure…”
There were many suspicious aspects but no clear evidence.
Thus, speculation remained just speculation, and the conversation kept going in circles.
-‘I’ll let you know as soon as new information comes in. What was the victim’s original nationality again?’
“Mardik.”
After the sound of typing keys, I put away the communicator. The train had just started moving along the tracks again with a rattling motion that shook my body.
Despite armed police having boarded, no significant commotion had occurred yet.
“Passport, please. Now.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand the local language…”
“Passport, please.”
“I told you I don’t understand what you’re saying!”
Officers carrying firearms were moving throughout the cars, checking passengers’ belongings and identification. The passengers appeared quite bewildered by the sudden inspection.
However, having overheard the attendants’ conversation and prepared for the inspection in advance, I passed through without issue.
“Hmm…”
After getting my passport back and before moving to the next car, I counted the police officers engaged in the inspection and spoke in a curious tone.
“That’s quite a number.”
The police officers who had boarded the train numbered at least 20. Even considering the train’s size and passenger count, this seemed excessive.
Though they were conducting the inspection gently enough, the gazes directed at the officers with rifles slung over their shoulders were far from friendly. Some passengers were anxious, others complained to the attendants. A strangely uncomfortable atmosphere enveloped the train.
As if avoiding this uncomfortable atmosphere, I left my seat and moved between cars, taking out my mobile phone to make a call.
After a few rings, someone finally answered.
-‘Brother?’
“Why did it take so long to answer? Pick up faster.”
-‘You call me while I’m working and then get snippy… What is it now?’
My sister Ayla, as ill-tempered as ever today, began wagging her tongue in a surly voice.
Tsk. I clicked my tongue briefly before adjusting my phone.
“There’s been an incident on my train, and I need you to look into it. No need for lengthy explanations—just dig up everything your company has on the area of stay, victim’s hometown, police investigation records, diplomatic cables, military communications, everything. Hurry up.”
-‘…’
“What?”
-‘…This is for work, right? Not personal business.’
“For crying out—do you want me to come to your house and skin you alive? I’ll tell Mom and Dad about you joining the Royal Intelligence Service!”
When I threatened to expose her career to our parents, Ayla began gathering information without further complaint, as if she’d never resisted. Typical of her. She never even pretends to listen when asked nicely.
After scolding my younger sister and waiting briefly, I finally received a response from Ayla.
Along with the information I had requested.
*
-‘Based on the deceased’s hometown and the country you’re currently in, there don’t seem to be any issues between the governments. But…’
“But?”
-‘A rebel group fighting against the government infiltrated combatants across the border—that is, into the country you’re in now—late last year and was caught. They used the train.’
This was quite a coincidental piece of news.
At least now I understood the background for the enhanced security checks. If such an incident had occurred on the railways, the strict inspections were certainly warranted.
Camilla reached a similar conclusion.
-‘Armed groups crossing borders illegally? That certainly explains it. I was wondering why they were conducting armed inspections… Since the victim happened to be from that country, it makes sense that the police would be sensitive about it.’
“About those rebels who crossed the border. Is there any other information?”
-‘The material is so extensive that it’s hard to search through everything. Besides TTP (Tactics, Techniques, and Procedures) related documents or Modus Operandi, there’s not much… Oh, there’s intelligence indicating they’ve been actively trying to expand overseas recently. They mainly send members of recruitment age and have a distinctive feature of tattooing their bodies.’
“…Is that so?”
-‘Yes.’
“I understand.”
Before ending the call, I nodded slightly and added:
“Camilla. If I don’t contact you within 30 minutes, get off at the next station.”
-‘Why?’
“It’s nothing serious.”
I bent slightly to peer into the train car.
A car packed with men in their 20s and 30s.
To make matters worse, they all had cute, dainty tattoos on their bodies.
I’d just wanted to catch a free ride on an expensive train. My luck was truly terrible.
I muttered in an incredulous voice:
“It seems the time has come to carry the Grand Duchess on my back.”
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