I

I

He's been useful for various things, but I can't associate with him anymore. I think I'll sever ties with him," the old man whispered in a hoarse voice.

Here in the Duchy of Catalonia—the only place the international express train from the neighboring countries of Franc and Rome arrived—stood Sants Estacio. Located in the western part of the capital, the train station was packed with travelers hurrying to board the last train.

The old man was one of about ten old people wearing sinister-looking black suits.

"Until the problem's taken care of, I'll leave this city. I'll let you deal with it, Don Biryial. By tomorrow . . . take care of that guy—understand?"

"Please, leave it to me, Master Dominic."

Biryial, the boss of the Barcelona underworld, sneered, twisting up the scar on his cheek. With a crocodile's smile, he jutted out his chin to indicate his subordinates. "These guys are more valiant than the military. I have a lot of men, and our opponent came with only one companion. By tomorrow, he'll be fish bait, floating in the harbor."

"Yes, but he's a man of unknown character—by no means underestimate him. You know where he's staying?"

"We know. There'll be no witnesses there. The police won't come, either. We can kill him as grandly as we please—"

"Wait. That's enough of this talk. Don't let my secretary find out." He paused, turning around. "Well, I've kept you waiting, Noelle."

A young woman standing in front of the VIP ticket counter greeted the amiably smiling old man. "I've been waiting for you, Director."

Her intelligent good looks and smartly tailored suit were suitable for the personal assistant to the director of a large company.

Upon glimpsing a bit of Noelle's shapely leg, Biryial whistled. His tongue was hanging out—but after the old man glared at him, he recovered by pretending to cough.

Noelle said, "As requested, I've reserved the last train to Avignon. It departs in ten minutes, so you'd better go to the platform now."

"As efficient as always. Thank you. Well, Biryial, the other matter is up to you."

"Yes. Take care, Doctor."

As Biryial and his gang bowed, the old man made his way through the ticket booth. A passageway about one hundred fifty feet long led straight to the international platform. Two people in black suits and the beautiful secretary trailed after the old man. They quickly passed through the deserted corridor.

Suddenly, a tall, lanky shadow appeared. "Doctor Jaime Dominic, the director of Dominic Pharmaceuticals?"

The man's unkempt silver-blond hair and round, milk-bottle glasses reflected the faint golden arc lights hanging overhead. The simple cassock and threadbare cape that wrapped around the stranger's body were typical for a wandering priest.

"Yes. Who are you?"

"I'm the wandering priest, Abel Nightroad. Pleased to meet you, Doctor Dominic—or maybe I should call you 'Professor James Barrie'?"

The instant he heard that name, the old man blanched. "I-I don't know what you mean. Never mind that, what is a priest doing here? This platform is just for VIP use."

"I'm an agent dispatched by the Vatican Foreign Affairs— from the special duty office commonly called AX."

The director made a frustrated noise.

His secretary didn't seem to notice. Under a wave of lustrous black hair, her icy eyes shone as she said: "I've come to arrest you on suspicion of murder, kidnapping, and child abuse on Never Land Island. It's no use trying to escape. Please, give up quietly."

"S-Señora Noelle! You—"

"Ah, I've been remiss." A cold, witchy smile flashed across her beautiful face. "I'm Sister Noelle of the Saint Mercedes Convent. By order of the Vatican, I've been secretly investigating your company."

"Get them!" the old man cried.

The two guards drew their guns. Barrie slipped right through the gangly priest's extended arms and ran down the corridor with an agility that belied his age.

"What are you gawking at, Abel?" Noelle yelled.

"Sorry!"

The guns pointed toward the priest, who was trailing after Barrie. The bodyguards pulled the triggers with practiced ease. However, the nun's hand moved an instant faster than their bullets.

"Gahhh!" one black-suited man screamed. Bright red liquid burst from his wrist. Wiping away gore stuck on the laser wedged between her fingers, Noelle sorrowfully shook her head. "Have I gotten rusty since my retirement? A half year ago, you'd have been missing your head."

"You bitch!" The other guard switched his aim to Noelle— but his target quickly disappeared from his field of vision. He glanced around.

A slender shadow danced over his head. The sister, who was clinging to the pipes on the ceiling with unbelievable strength, flashed her beautiful legs. "Barrie's escaping! After him, Abel!"

"Yes!"

She kicked the bodyguard in the jaw; he fell head over heels. Noelle landed on his stomach with a shout.

As Abel hurriedly turned around to look at her, the old man quickly escaped through the door at the end of the corridor.

That leads right to the platform. It'll be bothersome if he escapes into the crowd. Desperately pumping his lanky legs, the priest began to run down the corridor.

He fell clumsily, sliding along the floor, spurting blood from his nose. "Huh?"

"What are you doing?" Noelle cried. "Never mind, I'll go after him! You take care of these guys!"

"No, Noelle!" Abel shouted from where he lay on the floor.

"Be careful!" she said.

"Eh?"

When she tried to take off after Barrie, Noelle's long legs got tangled with Abel's. She lost her balance, falling back onto Abel’s face.

Abel wheezed.

"Ow ow ow ow. What is that?" With her backside still on her partner's face, Noelle rubbed her hip. Looking down to see what had tripped her, she frowned in suspicion.

Countless cracks ran through the floor. Moreover, the cracks were faintly vibrating, widening slowly.

"Th-this is . . ."

Then, the very air howled.

A thrumming noise rumbled, vibrating through their bodies, and something violently shook the corridor. The floor twisted; the windows burst. They could hear the sound of tremors causing pillars to crack. Suddenly, the walls trembled like living things.

"Earthquake?" Noelle murmured.

"Keep your head down! Please, lie flat!"

Chunks of plaster fell on Abel's head as he covered Noelle. If the ceiling comes down, that's the end of this story.

Although it felt as though hours had passed, in reality, the shaking lasted about thirty seconds. Suddenly, the earth tremors became inaudible. The vibrations stopped as quickly as they had started.

"That was a big earthquake."

"It's strange." Noelle's voice was hard as she peeked through a broken window.

The streetlights in the city still were shining, and carriages and automobiles came and went normally. There wasn't a single broken branch among the green trees lining the roads. Passersby were shouting to each other excitedly and pointing at the station.

"It seems like this building was the only one affected," she said.

"That's crazy! If that wasn't an earthquake . . . That's it! Barrie!" Having remembered his duty at last, the priest sprang up. He stumbled over the cracks in the floor as he made his way to the exit.

He pushed open the doors. "Eh?"

His eyes—the color of a winter lake—widened. He froze, staring at the place where the platform should have been.

The last train to Rome should have been there; passengers should have been scurrying to board as family members wished them goodbye. Instead, Abel saw the ruins of a fallen ceiling and a red pool of blood leaking out from a mountain of garbage. It was as silent as a tomb.

Sants Estacio's Platform 3 had been destroyed.