Chapter 277: Is Sherlock Really That Kind-Hearted?
To Lorne's surprise, Dr. Allen seemed to have heard the name Sherlock Moriarty as well.
They seemed to have met through a certain club, but Dr. Allen did not elaborate on the specifics.
He only knew that Sherlock had not appeared at that club for a long time, and he himself did not have the other party's address.
Such a coincidence left Lorne feeling somewhat surprised. After excusing himself to use the restroom and performing a careful divination to confirm that the matter had no direct connection to Sherlock himself, he finally breathed a sigh of relief.
After praising Detective Moriarty's professional abilities to Dr. Allen, Lorne gave him the address and exchanged contact information to keep in touch regarding the situation.
Dr. Allen expressed full understanding regarding Lorne's injury preventing him from accompanying him to hire the detective. After all, in his eyes, this Mr. Scott looked even more unlucky than he did.
After agreeing to keep each other informed of any developments, Lorne left the hospital.
He did not return to Rose Street but instead found an inconspicuous small hotel located in the East Borough to hide temporarily.
Regardless, the body was the foundation of everything, and he had to wait until his wounds were completely healed before proceeding with his subsequent plans.
"The design of the submachine gun needs to be modified again; the strength of ordinary steel is still too low—"
The Thompson submachine gun he had crafted earlier was basically scrapped after firing about 150 rounds during the night of the Rose School of Thought encirclement.
The barrel could not withstand that level of wear, suffering visible fractures, and the internal moving parts had become loose.
"Should the bullets also be changed? The chamber pressure of large-caliber revolver ammunition is too high, causing excessive wear on the barrel—"
During his rest period at the hotel, Lorne spent his time nursing his injuries and constantly pondering his firearm design blueprints.
"Why is it so noisy—"
Just as he was drawing the blueprints, a burst of noise came from outside the window, causing him to frown slightly.
He curiously opened the window and saw a large group of workers dressed in dark blue overalls gathered together, completely blocking the entrance of a factory.
Judging by their agitated appearance, they seemed to be demanding wages.
"Workers are protesting?"
"Another factory closed down?"
"Or is it to keep their jobs—" Lorne recalled the recent news in the papers.
Many factory owners, seeking to raise capital for a big score in the stock market, had mortgaged or outright sold their factories.
This directly led to mass unemployment—
"All the rich people are running toward finance—" Lorne sighed, looking at the scene downstairs, "Why am I the only one still thinking about manufacturing?"
After resting for four or five days in the small hotel and feeling that his wounds had mostly recovered, Lorne packed his belongings, preparing to go home.
But before that, he first went to the gun factory to check on the recent situation and, incidentally, to have Factory Manager Ted analyze the revised firearm blueprints.
Thanks to some orders from the colonial army, the factory finally caught a breath.
Lorne gave Ted some more money so he could smooth things over with other distributors, managing to secure a few more civilian orders.
The factory was now finally maintaining a break-even level.
Ted was extremely interested in the new firearm blueprints Lorne showed him, stating, "Boss, if we had produced this gun directly back then, we would probably be rolling in money now!"
However, excitement aside, he also raised a very realistic problem.
He stated that with the factory's current equipment, even the relatively simple Sten submachine gun could not be mass-produced; it would only be possible once the newly purchased batch of equipment was debugged.
Moreover, if they were to produce the new gun, they would have to halt the current production of shotguns.
Upon hearing this, Lorne stated that the priority was stability.
The submachine gun design was not completely mature yet, and they should consider other matters only after all current orders were fulfilled.
After giving Ted a few instructions, Lorne went to find Old Kohler to inquire about the workers' recent circumstances.
Old Kohler reported that everything was normal regarding the workers' jobs, but several of their families had recently encountered problems.
"What happened?" Seeing Old Kohler's troubled expression, Lorne pressed him.
"Well, sir—" Old Kohler sighed, his tone heavy, "There have been many kidnappers and abductors appearing in the East Borough recently."
"Children from several workers' families have suddenly gone missing."
"Kidnappers?!" Lorne frowned slightly.
He knew the public safety in the East Borough had always been poor, but he hadn't expected it to deteriorate to this extent.
"Have they reported it to the police?"
"They did." Old Kohler sighed again, looking dejected, "But the police said there were too many cases like this recently, and they were powerless, telling us only to go home and wait for news."
After speaking, Old Kohler's mood became even lower, seemingly reminded of his own child who had passed away long ago.
"Alas—" Lorne shook his head slightly.
The children lost in the East Borough were all from ordinary working families; when the number of cases increased and things got busy, how could the police truly care—
I'll talk to Hugh later.
She often deals with the gangs; I'll see if she has any leads.
Just as Lorne finished arranging everything and was about to leave the East Borough, he unexpectedly ran into an acquaintance around the street corner.
"This—he's like a lingering ghost—" Lorne muttered internally, but a professional smile quickly appeared on his face.
"The situation of the people in the East Borough is as bad as ever—" Klein sighed inwardly as he surveyed the surrounding dilapidated streetscape.
He had accepted a commission today; a journalist friend was coming to the East Borough for an interview and hired him as a bodyguard for a period.
After the commission ended, he planned to take a casual stroll around the East Borough to observe the "public sentiment."
"Rastig has gone out of town under the guise of a vacation.
It won't be long before the deceived wealthy merchants realize he has actually disappeared.
When that happens, this bomb will explode completely."
"Leaving the wealthy aside for now, the workers here will definitely be affected when that time comes—"
"Although Charles said they would acquire the bankrupt factories and try their best to prevent workers from losing their jobs."
"But—how could they possibly cover every single detail—"
Just as Klein was feeling uneasy and worrying about the future of the East Borough residents, a figure appeared before him.
"Long time no see, Detective Moriarty."
The voice startled Klein.
He looked up and recognized an "acquaintance" dressed in a decent black suit.
"James Scott?"
The person before him was none other than Lorne Disenk's friend, the fellow who had teamed up with Lorne to set him up!
"Mr. Scott, long time no see." Klein managed to force out a smile.
"Indeed, what a coincidence." Lorne also showed a warm smile.
"I heard that you and Lorne have resolved your previous misunderstandings?"
"Congratulations, congratulations!"
Tsk—we resolved them, alright.
That guy's methods were vicious.
Back in White Cliff Town, if Plum Blossom 5 hadn't arrived in time, I probably would have been torn apart by him.
Klein used the full extent of his "Clown" abilities just to prevent his expression from collapsing on the spot.
"By the way, did Dr. Allen go look for you?" Lorne asked again.
"Dr. Allen? Oh, that must be about investigating Will Auceptin.
He came by and said you introduced him."
"That's right.
I heard from Lorne that you are highly skilled, so I specifically sent a client your way."
Sending a client my way? This whole thing reeks of strangeness from beginning to end.
Are you trying to trick me again—
Serves you right for becoming unlucky! Klein grumbled internally.
He had already heard from Dr. Allen that this Mr. Scott's luck had recently plummeted to rock bottom.
"Right, so what happened with the case later?" Lorne pressed him.
"Judging by your tone, you accepted the commission.
What was the result?"
"The Will Auceptin family moved away." Klein sighed and answered truthfully.
"The trail went cold."
"Is that so." Lorne frowned slightly, also feeling disappointed.
"Speaking of which, Mr. Scott—" Klein suddenly spoke up, making a joke, "Shouldn't you also give me a commission fee?
After all, you seem quite concerned about this information."
"Detective Moriarty, how can you be so materialistic!" Lorne looked heartbroken.
"As a detective, where is your most fundamental desire for exploration?"
No matter how strong my desire for exploration is, I still need money to eat— Klein complained internally.
"Hmm—how about this." Lorne looked up at the sky and suggested, "You haven't had dinner yet, right?
I'll treat you to dinner, and we can sit down and discuss this matter in detail."
Klein looked at the completely dark sky, rubbed his stomach, and finally nodded.
He had been busy all day and was already hungry.
At the same time, he could use this opportunity to see what kind of person this James Scott truly was, and whether he was plotting something again.
They had barely walked a few steps side-by-side when they heard a burst of suppressed crying and shouting from nearby.
"Mom, Daisy—Daisy, she—"
"Let's look again!"
"Stop looking! Hurry back and wash the clothes, there are still so many left unwashed!"
"But—but—"
"Do you want to eat tomorrow or not?"
"Waaah—"
"Don't cry, I'll go find the police—"
Something seems to have happened— Lorne turned his head, ready to speak.
"Hey, should we go—"
Before he could finish his sentence, he saw Sherlock Moriarty beside him already striding off directly toward the source of the noise.
He wants to help?
Lorne was momentarily stunned as he watched the other man's back.
That guy—is he really that kind-hearted?