Ch.561Episode 20 – Who Threatened You with a Knife?

Just before leaving the room, Yekaterina sat on the sofa with an expression of lingering fatigue.

About a week ago, this guest room had been converted into a situation room with the help of support staff from the 6th Department.

The hotel in downtown Shizya was situated in prime real estate, allowing access to any direction within an hour. The joined tables, communication equipment, and situation boards captured every changing detail of the Ashtistan Republic.

“…Should I have moved to a larger place?”

The thought that the room was cramped briefly crossed her mind, but it was a pointless concern now.

The situation room was adequate. Making it any larger would alert the Ashtistan government. They would notice Imperial Guard employees entering Shizya without their knowledge. That would be an unwelcome situation for both the Guard and herself.

Yekaterina dismissed her stray thoughts by splashing cold water on her dry face.

“Section Chief Yekaterina.”

Oksana, the 6th Department support officer, spoke.

“Domovoi is on the move.”

“Where?”

“He’s just heading down to the lobby. Seems to be going toward the spa annex.”

The clock now showed 9 PM, and the scheduled spa time was fast approaching.

Zigmund was moving toward the spa he had reserved in advance, dressed comfortably and walking with a light step.

Even so, his eyes were carefully scanning the surveillance cameras in the corridors and elevators. With an extremely cautious gaze.

“……”

After staring intently at Zigmund on the screen, Yekaterina turned to Oksana.

“Who were our informants around Domovoi again? The assets recruited by the 6th Department.”

“Four employees under Georgi. The front desk worker who took the reservation call, two staff responsible for laundry delivery and room cleaning, and a technician managing the hotel’s internal phone network and security equipment. Four in total.”

The field leader was the front desk worker. The senior agent who passed down orders from the Imperial Guard’s 6th Department’s Georgi to other informants within the hotel. In a way, he could be considered the ringleader.

Did Zigmund know? That the employee who always smiled and kindly accepted customer requests was actually collecting information through his authority and position and passing it to the Imperial Guard?

Probably not. At least not yet.

The front desk employee, the field manager, was still useful. He had many tasks to perform in the coming days, so his expiration date needed to be extended.

“Oksana, send messages to Georgi and Kirill.”

Yekaterina instructed her to contact Georgi and deploy external surveillance personnel if possible.

She also ordered Kirill and Shandor, who were outside conducting communications surveillance, to be sent to Zigmund.

Oksana was typing the messages on a secure program when she suddenly expressed doubt.

“Investigator Kirill and Shandor?”

“We need two people for close surveillance inside the spa annex. If we send in informants, Domovoi will certainly notice them.”

The 6th Department support officer nodded at the 1st Department investigator’s explanation.

“Understood. I’ll inform them to conduct external surveillance until Georgi’s informants arrive, then move inside.”

“Good. Send it that way.”

“But what if our personnel’s identities are exposed? The target was the head of counterintelligence, after all.”

Oksana looked at Yekaterina with a worried expression.

Yekaterina put on her coat and replied:

“It doesn’t matter.”

“……”

“Even if he notices, there’s little he can do about it anyway.”

Episode 20 – Who Threatened You with a Knife?

A call came from those presumed to be Royal Intelligence.

They said they had Henya, Lucy, and Helen, and that they had thoroughly interrogated his contact, William.

The severed finger meant William had undergone intensive interrogation. The “information extraction” euphemism that the outwardly clean Royal Intelligence used for their interrogation process. Activities commonly defined as “torture” by the general public.

How long had William held out?

Probably not long.

The Imperial Guard had designated William as a contact simply because he had experience working in the Empire.

It was hard to believe William could withstand torture and conceal information, given that he was chosen merely because his background as a retired former diplomatic official made him easy to approach while avoiding suspicion from Royal Intelligence’s internal affairs department.

And there wasn’t enough loyalty between William and himself to defend each other at the risk of their lives.

William wasn’t the type to bet his life for Zigmund’s safety anyway.

He would have naturally revealed everything he knew. If he lasted two hours, that would be worthy of praise.

“…Fortunate that he didn’t know much.”

Pulling his collar tight against the cool desert night air, Zigmund began analyzing his situation objectively.

What was the traitor’s intention in approaching him?

What was Royal Intelligence plotting?

For decades, Zigmund had been a representative of violence. As a field agent and later as head of counterintelligence, he knew well how much the Abas intelligence service despised traitors.

And how they treated traitors.

He didn’t think for a moment that they would forgive his crimes now. Royal Intelligence didn’t seem intent on hiding that fact either. Hadn’t they openly sent William’s little finger and Helen’s wedding ring?

Zigmund understood the meaning behind the gift.

It was no different from the gifts he himself had sent to traitors.

“Tsk, huff…”

After grinding out his cigarette with his heel, Zigmund hurried toward his destination.

Although Royal Intelligence had instructed him to cooperate without question to recover his captured family, if he simply complied with Abas’s demands, he would end up like a dodo bird.

The Imperial Guard also knew that a traitor who had once turned his back on his homeland could betray someone again.

Moreover, with the capture of his contact, his relationship with the Imperial Guard was strained. Just as he worried about leaking Guard secrets, the Guard might worry about his defection.

If the information about Helen, Henya, and Lucy’s abduction reached the Imperial Guard’s ears?

Petrograd would certainly take only Zigmund and abandon his family here.

That had been the Imperial Guard’s approach to rescuing double agents for decades.

It was also why Zigmund had urgently tried to get his family to defect first.

“Back again today. Just came to buy some snacks for the kids. Are you busy, Nasrin?”

“Oh, Mr. Dryman! Not at all. Come in! We just got some seasonal fruits in—you came at the right time.”

“Fruit sounds good. Please pack a few. Could I borrow your phone for a moment?”

“Of course! It’s in the kitchen, feel free to use it.”

“Thank you. Oh, and give my regards to the owner while I’m here.”

After entering a restaurant near the hotel, Zigmund naturally exchanged greetings with the female owner, then diverted her attention elsewhere.

With Royal Intelligence approaching, this place could no longer be considered safe. Nasrin was a kind and generous restaurant owner, but she knew his face and his family’s faces. If intelligence officers investigated Zigmund, there would be no better informant than Nasrin.

Even after entering the kitchen, Zigmund constantly watched for others’ gazes. Checking if Nasrin might be eavesdropping on his conversation, or if the cook was suspiciously delaying his work to monitor him.

Then, when he caught the right timing:

“It’s me. Where are you now?”

Zigmund quickly dialed and lowered his voice.

-‘I’m on a business trip to the west. Why?’

“I’ve got a tail today. Can you find out who?”

-‘If there’s a communication record, it’s possible. It’ll cost, though. But we can’t use the Republic National Bank right now. The anti-corruption department is cracking down because of those Lapdari bastards.’

“Send it through hawala (حِوالة).”

Hawala (حِوالة) is Al-Yabd’s remittance system, derived from a word meaning trust.

A customer entrusts money to a broker and gives a password to an acquaintance. The acquaintance then visits the broker, presents the password, and receives the money.

Only Al-Yabd believers can use it, making it convenient for sending money to relatives living abroad. However, since hawala (حِوالة) bypasses official international exchange systems, it’s also a hotbed for slush funds, currency exchange arbitrage, and terrorist financing.

In other words, it’s difficult to trace.

“Three hundred as a retainer.”

-‘You’re generous. Alright, let’s do it, friend.’

Zigmund ended the brief call and checked the time. 9:16 PM.

He needed to hurry to the next step.

Leaving the store, Zigmund entered an alley he had memorized earlier. His destination now was a jeweler—one of Shizya’s brokers who also handled hawala.

This was why funds distributed through hawala were difficult to trace: the use of jewels rather than actual cash, and the secretive movement of funds between brokers.

Even Royal Intelligence would find it difficult to notice that Zigmund had used hawala.

Even if he was being followed, they would at most guess that he had exchanged his heavy cash for jewels to use as escape funds at the jewelry store.

“Welcome—”

“Hello (سلام علیکم). I’d like to make a remittance.”

The jeweler looked suspicious when a white man tried to use hawala, but he didn’t question the money handed to him.

“…A foreigner like you?”

“Money has no sin or borders.”

“True enough. Let’s see.”

In Ashtistan, under economic sanctions, foreign currency was always precious. Besides, judging by his fluency in Ashtistani, this foreigner seemed familiar with local affairs. He might even be of mixed heritage.

Whether the jeweler trusted the person or the money is hard to say, but the fact remained that Zigmund had successfully used hawala. And the funds he gave to the broker had flowed to an Ashtistani intelligence agent.

This was an informant he had known since his days working at the Shizya branch. Of course, he was an asset never reported to Royal Intelligence.

Ashtistan had always gone through turbulent times, Zigmund had been here, and he was recognized as an Ashtistan expert within Royal Intelligence. Hiding an informant or two without reporting wasn’t that difficult.

At least not for Zigmund.

“Time… is about right.”

Looking at his wristwatch, it was already 9:23 PM. If he hurried from now, he could make it to the spa annex on time.

He might sweat a bit, but that didn’t matter since he planned to change clothes anyway.

Zigmund quickly gathered his wallet and began moving at a brisk pace toward the hotel.

*

If there’s a similar characteristic between Al-Yabd and Kiyen cultures, it would be their positive view of bathing.

The Kiyen Empire, which had historically sent expeditionary forces to the Mauritanian continent, had popularized bathhouses from ancient times.

In the age of firearms and knights, hundreds of years ago, an emperor once imposed a “tax on household bathhouses” on nobles, merchants, and peasants alike to raise funds for rebuilding the expeditionary fleet.

Naturally, the Smirnoff royal family built magnificent bathhouses in their villas across the provinces, making bathhouses beloved and essential fixtures in the empire.

The same was true in the Al-Yabd region. Influenced by doctrines emphasizing cleanliness, bathing culture had been established early. Followers of the Earth Mother Goddess took cleanliness for granted, and bathing became an essential religious ritual before meeting the deity.

Its sanctity was so profound that even the desert tyrants known for their madness never committed impure acts in bathhouses. Especially acts involving bloodshed—whether violence or debauchery—were considered serious crimes regardless of status.

Thus, the perspective on bathing shared by these two cultures was very familiar and unremarkable to Zigmund.

This was because Zigmund was an intelligence officer who had witnessed the fall of the monarchy and the birth of the republic in Shizya, and a double agent receiving attention from Petrograd. This meant he had used both Al-Yabd-style and Imperial-style bathhouses since his youth.

-Ding!

As he arrived at his destination via the annex elevator, the rich scent of wood greeted him.

Metaphysical patterns carved from wood covered the wall behind the desk, and the logo “Mandala” glowed under soft lighting.

Zigmund approached the reception desk.

“Welcome to Mandala Spa. How may I help you?”

“Hello (سلام).”

The employee greeted Zigmund with a bright smile, her back to the logo.

In response, Zigmund naturally rested his arm on the desk, leaned forward, and began scanning his surroundings.

He had been suspicious of surveillance since his contact with the Imperial Guard and Royal Intelligence, but so far, no one stood out. He had briefly made eye contact with some locals outside, but they hadn’t followed him into the lobby, let alone inside.

“I have a reservation for Room 3. Can I use it right away?”

“What is your name, sir?”

“Dryman. I reserved under the name Dryman.”

“Ah, Mr. Dryman. Yes. You can use it from 9:30 PM to 11 PM. I’ll prepare it for you, please come this way.”

The receptionist perfectly concluded the conversation with a well-maintained professional smile. She skillfully guided the customer to Room 3 and provided a brief introduction and explanation.

In front of Room 3, Zigmund checked his wristwatch, then suddenly walked back to the desk as if he had just remembered something.

“How absent-minded of me. I forgot to say thank you. I appreciate your kind guidance.”

“Sir? Oh… thank you.”

Approaching the desk, he offered a tip with an awkward smile, looking exactly like someone who had forgotten to tip.

When he handed the tip as a gesture of gratitude for the guidance, the employee smiled as if she hadn’t expected it. Zigmund exchanged a few words with her, made a simple request—”My friend said he was coming, but I’m not sure when. Could you let me know if someone arrives?”—then engaged in some casual small talk before entering Room 3.

There was no special reason for his kindness to the spa employee he met today. He simply noticed that she wasn’t an informant working for anyone.

If that employee had been bought by Royal Intelligence or the Imperial Guard, she would have picked up the phone immediately after returning to her desk after guiding Zigmund to Room 3. To deliver the good news to the intelligence officer who employed her.

But the employee just sat at her desk for a long time after returning.

Far from making a phone call or talking to anyone, she simply took out a hand mirror and intently checked if her makeup was smudged.

In that case, it was better for Zigmund to buy her off before anyone else approached her. While a small tip wouldn’t be enough to bribe someone, he had earned her goodwill, so she would at least cooperate during his stay at the spa.

Anyone would, if a foreigner had given them three months’ worth of their salary at once.

“……”

As befitting an Imperial hotel, Mandala Spa took the form of a typical Kiyen sauna.

A structure built of logs, with a stove for burning firewood and a small water container on one wall.

These were the unmistakable characteristics of a banya (Баня).

The heated stove raises the temperature, and pouring water over it allows steam to regulate humidity and temperature. Being inside a high-rise building, there was no chimney, but a small window that guests could open and close hung on one side.

Entering the banya where water droplets had formed, Zigmund scooped up water with a ladle and splashed it onto the stove.

-Hisssss….

Having experienced banyas during his time in the Empire, he knew exactly what would look natural.

Zigmund examined the outside of the banya through the window.

“No one’s here.”

Mandala Spa, located in the annex, is a grand meeting place.

The way to use a banya is to sweat profusely, then wash off the heated body with cold water, and return to the banya. For this reason, Mandala Spa has several banyas lined up along the walls, with a communal pool in the center for guests to use.

Note that banyas operate strictly on a reservation system. This is why Royal Intelligence advised Zigmund to “arrive on time”—because visiting without a reservation is impossible.

In other words, someone might be waiting for him here.

“Yaaawn. Mmm, hmm…”

A man in his 40s sitting on the Arabesque tiles with his legs in the water, yawning languidly.

The man, about 180cm tall, had the typical appearance of a tall, pot-bellied middle-aged Kiyen man. Next to him was a bottle of vodka, apparently half-consumed. Anyone could tell he was definitely from the Empire.

“I’m telling you, Masha. I’m in an important meeting right now. I’ll be back soon. Mmm… yes, I love you, honey.”

“Are you done, darling?”

A man and woman sitting side by side on chairs. The man appeared to be in his early to mid-30s, while the woman seemed younger, in her mid-20s.

Occupying two chairs amicably, the man seemed to be struggling with his phone for a while. Judging by the pet name “Masha” and the lie about a “meeting,” he appeared to be having an affair. The woman cooing across from him was likely his mistress or lover.

Young men splashing around wearing hats, women showing off their figures in swimsuits, an old man eating a chunk of bread while massaging his back with a venik (веник: a broom made of birch, oak, or other leaves)—these were among the other patrons.

Zigmund used the banya naturally like others while constantly watching to see if anyone was observing him.

“……”

So far, he hadn’t detected anyone monitoring him—neither inside the banya nor outside.

There was no one here attempting to make contact. If someone had given him a look when he entered, or entered shortly after him, he would have been suspicious, but no one fit either case.

Perhaps the contact would arrive later than him? Maybe they had made a reservation for around 10 PM or 10:30 PM after he had made his?

Zigmund thought this might be possible.

-‘Mandala Spa. How may I help you, guest?’

“This is Dryman.”

-‘Ah! Mr. Dryman. What can I do for you?’

When he contacted the desk using the phone inside the banya, a familiar voice answered.

Nilüfer, was it? That was the name he remembered seeing on her nameplate when he gave her the tip at the reception desk earlier.

She sounded quite cheerful, apparently pleased with the tip. Zigmund began by saying he had a few questions for the smiling employee.

“I wanted to ask something quickly. Is there anyone with reservations at 10 PM, 10:30 PM, or 11 PM today? My friend said to meet at Mandala Spa, but he’s not here.”

The employee hesitated, saying that “reservation details are customer’s personal information and cannot be disclosed as a rule,” but not wanting to be cold to the kind customer who had tipped her, she quickly retracted her statement.

-‘Hmm… I shouldn’t really do this, but I’ll check specially for you. What is your friend’s name?’

“His name is Ali.”

Note that Ali is an extremely common name in the Mauritanian continent. There are four or five children named Ali in every other household.

In other words, this was a fake friend Zigmund had just made up.

-‘Ali, Ali… I’m sorry, but there’s no one by that name.’

Although the person didn’t actually exist, the employee diligently searched for a guest named “Ali.”

Zigmund noticed that her answer came back remarkably quickly—in less than three seconds—and realized something.

There weren’t many guests with reservations from 10 PM to 11 PM.

He immediately asked his next question.

“Oh, that’s troublesome. Are there any guests who made last-minute reservations today? My friend sometimes makes reservations under his family members’ names. Like his wife, sister-in-law, or brother.”

-‘Please wait a moment. Today’s reservations…’

The sound of pages flipping could be heard briefly.

After eagerly looking through the reservation list, the employee suddenly gave Zigmund an answer.

Her voice was noticeably brighter.

-‘At 10 PM, two people for a 60-minute course. They just reserved by phone—it’s a male guest.’

“A man and woman?”

-‘Yes. It seems to be your acquaintance and his wife. Is that right?’

Zigmund nodded.

“That’s right.”

A smile spread across his face.

“Please let me know by phone when they arrive.”

*

At the same time, on the main road in front of Mandala Spa.

As the driver slowed down, apparently intending to stop near the crosswalk, Matt turned his head toward the back.

“Ready?”

“Yeah, more or less.”

Frederick frowned as he inserted an earpiece.

Damn this antique. I’ve never used such a cheap device even in Africa. The fit is terrible.

“He’s probably sweating it out by now?”

“I doubt he’s leisurely entertaining prostitutes. He’s not that type of person anyway.”

“Do you know him? This Zigmund or Mund or whatever?”

“More like I’ve seen him in passing a few times. We’ve never been formally introduced—just passed each other across corridors.”

“So you don’t know him.”

Matt nodded with a slight smile at Frederick’s not-quite-complaint.

After checking the communication signal, Frederick prepared to get out of the car. The van would drop him off and then quickly and naturally leave the scene. Of course, while maintaining communication and dropping people off at different locations.

Several intelligence officers participating in the operation were assigned to surveillance duties. Frederick wasn’t officially part of the operation, but he had tagged along just to see the hotel.

And now he had a suitable reason too.

Matt stroked his beard and began to mutter:

“Will you be alright? Zigmund might recognize you.”

“I couldn’t care less. I must be quite popular.”

“With an uncle-aged man?”

“No. With women.”

“What a load of bullshit.”

Something that looked like a long finger appeared in the rearview mirror for a moment, but Matt just laughed it off.

As the slowing vehicle reached its destination, Frederick quickly exited through the open door along with someone else.

As he was halfway out, he tossed a comment toward the passenger seat headrest.

“Tell Ayla I want to see her face when I get back.”

“Woo-hoo.”

Going to fight again?

Matt playfully asked as he turned around, but no answer came.

As soon as the door closed with a bang, the vehicle rejoined the traffic flow as if it had never stopped.

Frederick stretched widely as if to loosen his stiff body.

At that moment:

Poke, poke—someone repeatedly jabbed his side.

“Excuse me. Frederick.”

A head wrapped in a beautiful, colorful rusari. Slightly exposed red hair fluttering in the wind like burning flames.

“Why did you bring me here?”

Kamila was looking at Frederick with bright blue eyes as clear as the autumn sky.

She looked every bit the state-certified semi-professional troublemaker (intelligence agency intern).

In response, Frederick clicked his tongue and looked at Kamila’s face.

“Uh, well…”

“……”

“…To see a new house?”