Ch.76

Creyfield returned after handing over the bread bag to Sister Maria. Abashina told him about the request.

“Well. After hearing the details, it seems I’ll need to travel to another region. That will incur additional charges. Accommodation fees. Transportation costs. As you know, even we can’t work for free as a matter of principle. It’s both a matter of making a living and avoiding unnecessary price competition in the industry.”

“It’s not free. I’ll pay the fee, of course. And I only need your assistant.”

“Is that so? Then you must know my assistant has an official private detective license. The fee should be around the industry average. How much were you thinking?”

“The request fee is right me…”

Abashina’s face turned red as she answered reflexively. She seemed to realize belatedly that her words might sound somewhat dangerous. Fortunately, Creyfield waited for her to continue. But the answer came from behind us.

“The Amontillado cask below that warehouse.”

It was Father Michael, a muscular, well-built Black man. Behind him, pale-faced Sister Maria was munching on a sandwich with beef patty. A bewildered Creyfield asked back.

“Ah. An Amontillado cask, you say. I hope there are no chains or bricks or anything like that?”

“Is that all? I’ve also placed a black cat in the gap of a collapsed wall. Roughly sealed it with lime.”

“I feel like a raven might fly in at any moment. I mean, how modern, like Edgar Allan Poe.”

Father Michael slapped his thigh and laughed.

“Sister Maria. Please take care of what I asked with Director Abashina. I’ll show our two guests the skeletal remains of Fortunato. This way.”

Abashina and Maria entered the convent building, while we went into the underground storage on the side of the cathedral. Below the storage was a massive wine cellar. It was truly enormous for a simple underground storage. It felt like an entire library floor had been placed there, but instead of books, wine bottles slept on the shelves.

“Heaven was right beside us, assistant.”

Creyfield looked around like a crusader first setting foot in Jerusalem.

“My goodness. Look at this. It’s not sorted alphabetically. It’s arranged by production country, region, and year. I’d believe you if you said this was a world map made of alcohol, Father.”

“Then you must recognize that as well.”

The priest pointed to the wall. There was indeed an oak cask lying on its side. Creyfield was now trembling slightly all over. Michael gently smiled as he stroked the cask.

“We received this from a monastery in Jerez de la Frontera, Spain. It’s the birthplace of sherry wine, and only what’s made in that region is considered true sherry.”

Creyfield couldn’t take his eyes off the cask.

“Are you giving us this entire cask?”

“Isn’t that too much? It would turn sour before we could finish it all!”

Michael laughed loudly.

“A major event will be held at the cathedral soon. It’s a commemorative festival, and we plan to open this cask on that day. We’ll offer a glass to each visitor for free. At that time, I’ll give you five bottled ones. Mr. Creyfield, how does that sound?”

“I have the contract form at my office, but I’ll bring it tomorrow. Ready for you to just sign.”

A dazed Creyfield muttered.

“Then I should give you a deposit as well?”

Michael elegantly held out a wine glass and walked toward the shelves. Since I didn’t know much about alcohol, I wondered why Creyfield accepted this request for just five bottles of wine.

“My friend, do you know what that is? It’s a cask. And an authentic Spanish one at that! Look. It’s made of wood, right? Just as wood absorbs water, that wooden barrel absorbs wine. In exchange, the wood’s unique aroma seeps into the alcohol. Wine is a symphony composed of oak fragrance, grape components, and yeast harmonizing together. Since 1980, the export of casks has been strictly prohibited, so 21st century cask sherry is just briefly placed in barrels—too diluted to be called real cask sherry. This is a romance that can only be experienced in this era, how could one give that up?”

Father Michael returned with a bottle of wine. He held it out to Creyfield so he could see the label, and as Creyfield slowly read the label, he actually seemed to tear up a bit. The priest effortlessly pulled out the cork with his hand. His tremendous strength was impressive, but his decanting skill, pouring the alcohol like thin honey, was so mesmerizing I forgot to blink.

“Port wine, 40-year aged vintage. I had occasion to visit Porto and acquired it there.”

Well, I don’t know much about alcohol taste. And Father Michael didn’t pour us very much, so I’m not sure how to describe the flavor. But I can say for certain that when I took a sip, I thought this wasn’t so much alcohol as an entirely different food.

Chocolate with dried fruit pieces, with faint cinnamon and pepper aromas? You might think I’m crazy for saying wine tastes like that, but that’s how it seemed to my palate.

Creyfield didn’t open his mouth at all, seemingly rolling the wine around in his mouth. Father Michael waited until we had all swallowed our drinks.

“Did you like it?”

Since Creyfield remained silent, I answered instead. Michael beamed.

“I call it a deposit, but it’s actually a confidentiality fee. What I’m about to tell you is strictly confidential. Are you interested, Mr. Creyfield?”

Creyfield hastily nodded.

“Good. I’ll pour you each another glass after I finish my story. But first, please listen.”

Father Michael began with the story of the wine cellar. Just as the mafia have their own routes, the church also had secured its own distribution network. The reason Michael, Abashina, and the Black and White Rose Order came to Pollard Island was to ensure the safe distribution of communion wine coming from the continent. The wines arriving at Pollard Island were safely delivered to churches throughout Massachusetts.

“America is an interesting land. Sell alcohol and a place, and information rolls in. The way to obtain information is simple: prepare a safe place and just put alcohol on the table.”

These secret bars existed throughout America. Priests and monks in each region collected information from these gatherings and sent it to the Vatican. In the midst of this, suspicious signs were detected from Kingsport.

“As Sister Abashina may have already told you, a suspect exploded in the Kingsport police interrogation room. People exploding is impossible, but it’s possible if explosives were implanted in the body beforehand. Explosion debris was indeed found at the scene.”

“Wait, Father. But how does one detonate a bomb in a police interrogation room?”

Michael sighed softly at Creyfield’s question.

“A clockwork mechanism.”

“What? A clockwork mechanism?”

“Yes. Shattered clockwork parts were found. A kind of time bomb, you might say?”

“But that’s British Empire technology, isn’t it? Why would it be in America…?”

Creyfield’s eyes narrowed. Michael nodded.

“That’s exactly what we’re trying to find out. British technology turned a person into a walking bomb on American soil. This isn’t the work of the British government. They classify clockwork technology as a state secret. It’s more reasonable to assume this was done by someone harboring resentment against the British Empire.”

“Why is the Vatican getting involved?”

“The Vatican is already a step behind. The ‘Circus’ moved first. They will erase, conceal, and cover up everything. On the surface, the Vatican and the Circus maintain friendly relations, but in reality, they’re both trying to extract more information from each other. The Vatican is restraining an increasingly fascist Britain, while the Circus tries to exploit the Vatican’s information network.”

“What exactly is the Circus?”

“It’s a nickname for British Intelligence. Their headquarters is a square building, and they say it’s called the Circus because people go round and round inside.”

Father Michael poured another glass of port wine.

“I apologize for asking this of you. But Mr. Creyfield, and Assistant, we believe in your capabilities. This matter is difficult for us clergy to handle alone. The US government is using Britain as a role model to emerge as a totalitarian state, and the Federal Security Bureau stands at that starting point. So, we can hardly expect support from the Federal Security Bureau in this matter.”

“What exactly is our mission?”

“Uncover the truth faster than the Circus.”

“Damn it, Father.”

Creyfield loosened his collar. It was due to the alcohol.

“We don’t know who’s friend or foe, but our competitors have a clear goal. We’re already at a disadvantage.”

“Didn’t Sister Abashina mention the fee?”

Father Michael looked at me, then at Creyfield in turn. Before Creyfield could stammer, Michael clarified.

“She didn’t explain the exact nuance. As you probably already know, she’s a vampire. She can read blood memories. Her information gathering speed is faster and more accurate. The Vatican has also prepared some items, which Abashina should have received by now. We call it the ‘Mosquito.'”

“What does it do?”

“It’s simple. It’s a small blood collection syringe shaped and sized like a pencil, causing about half the pain of a mosquito bite. But that’s enough to extract blood. Abashina will handle the information gathering this time. That’s what she meant when she referred to herself as the request fee.”

Creyfield scratched the side of his head.

“It’s a bit strange. If Sister Abashina can investigate on her own, why does she want to take my assistant?”

“First reason is because Abashina specifically requested your assistant. Second reason, as you know, she’s quite… visually distinctive, isn’t she? She also has vision problems. So she needs someone to help her.”

Anyone would agree with that description of her silver long hair and silver-gray eyes.

“But that’s not all. On this island, the sisters and I can control her, but that’s difficult off the island. So I’m hoping your assistant can serve as a kind of safety measure. Mr. Creyfield, my request is this: protect Abashina from losing herself. In return, I’m offering five bottles of Amontillado wine.”

“That’s all fine. Fine, but why go to such lengths? I genuinely don’t understand. And I can’t work when puzzles multiply. Neither can my assistant.”

For the first time, Michael avoided Creyfield’s gaze.

“Mr. Creyfield. A long time ago. It was long ago, but. I saw people turn into machines. It was horrifying. They moved only according to the clockwork’s commands. It’s a terrible, frightening thing. If a loved one suddenly appears as a bomb, and no one knows who the bomb is, the situation persists. Communities will collapse and civilization will crumble. Being unable to live together, being unable to trust anyone, is truly horrifying. I saw this happen in a rural estate a very long time ago. I intervened, but it was too late.”

Michael was angry. Angry enough to clench his fists.

“I cannot stand by and watch that living hell happen again.”

Creyfield nodded. He finished the rest of his port wine and gently took Michael’s hand.

“I accept. Don’t worry. However, my assistant and I have something to do tonight. So let’s postpone our departure until tomorrow. Please send the Mother Superior to my office at ten in the morning.”

“Thank you, Mr. Creyfield. May blessings fill your path ahead.”

Michael’s voice seemed somehow suppressed.