C4 Won’t be a Problem for Black-magic Followers

Officer Wheatstone, however, looked at the stylish guy, inquiring.

“Excuse me ... did you say something Mr. Dragoesti?”

“No”, he said sharply.

So Officer Wheatstone went on:

“There’s never been a similar case in London before. You can imagine, all newspapers will write about ...”

Anyhow, Mr. Vlad didn’t listen to the police officer. He got close to the nightstand the policeman hit, next to which several things were spread.

He picked up a notebook that looked like a diary with golden cover, but there wasn’t anything written there. Vlad opened it and saw only blank pages as white as freshly milked moo juice. He dropped it back on the floor, because it was useless to him.

He then picked up a photo frame that was facedown. The glass protecting the photo was broken because of that young officer’s awkwardness ... and because of the Commander who yelled at him, of course.

There were three people in the picture. There was a brown-haired man wearing glasses, a dark-haired woman, very beautiful. Her hair was very long and wavy ... and a very nice child, who seemed to be about 3 years old.

When Vlad Dragoesti saw the picture, his face got dark and became extremely disturbed. A man so self-controlled looked frowning at the two police officers and asked stammering:

“Where is he ... where did you take him ... the boy ?!”

The two officers looked at each other, interrogative.

“Which boy? Officer Blanc mumbled, smiling.

Mr. Vlad jumped to his feet, clenched his fists so tightly that the rod made a sound as if cracking under the force of his hands and got closer to the officer getting even darker.

“YOU KIDDING ME…!? THE CHILD IN THE PICTURE!”

The impenetrable man came so close to the officer that the latter clearly saw a tattoo appearing and disappearing in Mr. Vlad's temple area. A tattoo ... with a green dragon. Maybe because of fear, the officer imagined the tattoo was mobile, so he took a step back, very frightened. He didn’t expect such a reaction.

“Excuse us, Mr. Dragoesti. I didn't know you talked about the child in the picture. But that boy you're talking about ... unfortunately ...”

“UNFORTUNATELY WHAT?” the fancy gentleman asked, so angry and loud that everyone there stopped their activity.

“That child is actually ... a girl. That's why I didn't know what you talked about ...” Blanc apologized.

Sunrise surrounded by wonderful rainbow, that’s what Vlad Dragoesti's face expressed, lit up in a moment. Moreover, he smiled and gave a friendly tap to Blanc’s shoulder.

“So it’s a girl...”

A short break followed, when things totally calmed down. Only Officer Blanc probably still wondered ... why he saw a dragon at Mr. Dragoesti's temple, considering that now ... there was nothing else there. He was struck dumb.

“Do you want to see the girl, Mr. Vlad?” Wheatsone dared say. “She’s at one of the neighbours...”

“Yes ... I ought to see her. If she’s nearby ... I'll go see her. She's the daughter of a relative of mine. Even though she’s a very distant niece, she’s still part of the family.”

“Officer Gangsley, let's take Mr. Dragoesti to the flat below us. There’s the little girl ...”

The officers and the neat gentleman went to the ground floor on a stairway that seemed to be crying at every step taken by the officers. Gangsley Taylor stared at Mr. Dragoesti all the way, but he didn’t sketch a gesture and said absolutely nothing.

Eventually they came to that flat. There the door was slightly open, so the three entered the flat as if they belonged to it without considering that it was a stranger’s house.

In the flat, there were two other police officers with the girl and an older lady, dressed perhaps too flirty, looking almost ridiculous. The lady was the owner of that apartment.

“Hello, I'm Deborah Stone ... Nick Stone's widow ...”, the woman said standing up.

The lady, wearing a too low-cut dress, inappropriate for that visit, stuck her hand out probably to have it kissed by the gentlemen, as a sign of respect. Nevertheless, she only got a slight handshake from Gangsley.

“Would you like some coffee?” said the landlady, smiling anyway.

“No”, Mr. Vlad Dragoesti said, cutting her words short.

“I called the police. I heard noise upstairs in the flat. Even though the wind and the rain made unspeakable noise, I still managed to hear the roar from above. As if it were a hurricane up there ...”

The lady sat down, but she kept talking:

“I could hear words I didn't understand. And as I got this device from the late Nick I called the police station of our sector. Fortunately, the forensic guys came quickly ... because otherwise the father could kill the girl too... The gadget was modified by my husband ... Nobody in the neighbourhood has such an exquisite object. I managed to call the police with it ...”

The woman kept talking very quickly. She was proud of her gadget, a phone that really had a superbly worked bronze holder.

“I'm not a meddling kind of person. In any case, I'm sure he killed her and then he killed himself…I felt something fishy with him…I’m glad the girl escaped his clutches.”

“And then why does the room look as if something exploded in there?” Wheatstone inquired.

The woman didn't know what to answer. Her face let them know she struggled to find a plausible answer.

But Vlad Dragoesti wasn’t interested in her words. He got close to the girl, completely ignoring the woman's attempt to present the object to which she gave too much importance.

“How rude of him,” Mrs. Stone flared up to Gangsley.

Still, as she saw Mr. Gangsley smiling at her, she quickly forgot Vlad's lack of manners and kept telling him.

Even though he left the impression that he listened to her, the officer kept an eye on Dragoesti, a corner of his eye actually.

“He is a friend of the Prime Minister’s ... of the British Empire,” Wheatstone told Mrs. Stone, pointing to the obscure gentleman.

“Ooh…”

That’s all the chattering lady could say when she heard what important people she accommodated. After a few seconds of confusion, she pulled through.

“I’ll go to freshen up... maybe journalists will come ... or ...”

And the woman entered another room to freshen up a little, casting everyone aside in that messy room.

The snazzy gentleman sat quietly and looked at the little girl. He slightly leaned over and got close to the child’s angel face.

The girl seemed to be younger than 4, considering her in front of Mr. Dragoesti. A different child from the one in the picture. A thin, beautiful girl, with long blond hair, longer than shoulder length haircut, dressed in a cute deux-pièces and an embroidered vest. She was shod in pretty red boots, needless to speak, ready for a special day.

Vlad looked into the girl's eyes. The girl also saw that tattoo, that green dragon. The tattoo seemed to imperceptibly move again and seemed to admire the charming little girl too.

The girl was not scared, she even enjoyed the image of the dragon that appeared and disappeared from the face of the man in a strange way.

“What's your name, my dear?”

“Elizabeth ...” answered the girl with a warm smile.

The fine gentleman smiled somewhat indifferent. He kept watching the little girl, with his smile fading away, even though her big smile was still on her face.

“I met your parents ...”

“Where are my mom and dad ...?” the little girl asked with a smile.

Mr. Vlad looked at the officers as if expecting them to tell the girl the trouble she got into.

“Mommy and dad are gone for a while,” Gangsley said hesitating.

Notwithstanding, as none of the other officers knew how to tell the child that her beloved parents were no longer among them, Mr. Vlad broke the silence:

“Mommy and dad went to the guy who gave them the most precious gift ... you. And I came to take care of you. I just can't take you now, ...”

The little girl looked at that foreign gentleman, but this time she was a little sadder.

“Why can't I come now ...?”

“I have to go for a while. But at some point I will come after you ... or send someone to take care of you until I solve my problems ...”

He turned to the two officers. He spoke to them chiefly, as if he had the right to give them orders:

“I talked to your Commander. The girl will stay at the orphanage Angel’s hand.”

He looked at the little girl smiling this time.

“You heard, my dear ... you’ll stay in an angel’s palm until I come after you. You will be fine there ... and your parents are now in the palm of the angels. And an angel that I send to the orphanage will watch over you while you are there.”

Mr. Vlad got up suddenly and walked out of the room as if he counted the moments he had to spend there.