PLaying the Great Game
The envelope came to my rooms via messenger. Inside was the crisp white stationery the Juliet Parr uses to contact me.
"1138 St Johns Square, 10:30. Second floor library."
I pocketed the stationery and gathered my things. An electric torch in the inside jacket pocket, knuckle dusters in my outer pockets. I slipped my lock picks and gloves into the other inner pocket. I checked that my piano wire was in the inside band of my bowler hat. I picked up my walking stick and stepped smartly out into the foggy night.
What a fog! Nearly yellow soup stuff that swirled about me. Within ten strides I couldn't see my residence nor hear the screams from inside. The fog stank of chemicals and the effluvium of the humanity that lives nearby. Several of the night women I passed hacked and coughed breathing the stuff, I truly was thankful that I no longer had to.
St Johns square was several blocks away in a better part of town, so I was happy to walk it. This also made sure that I wasn't followed. Die ältesten Gewohnheiten lassen sich nur schwer ablegen. The oldest habits die hard. If only it hadn't been Berlin...
I came up to the steps of the house, a large affair. I can see at least three stories. The door is slightly ajar. As I step up to it, I hear my name softly in the night "Warin". I froze,glancing around me. Sounded like Juliet.
