In the open space in the middle of the pier, dozens of privately armed thugs were holding guns, aiming at the head of the gray-haired young man in the middle. The sound of gun safety catches was heard one after another in the air, and the tension was rising.

Hoffa protected Chloe behind him with a bad look on his face.

"Wait a minute...wait a minute...don't, don't get excited..."

The nervous sounds came from far to near.

Hearing the sound, Hoffa turned around and saw that the person coming was a young woman in her twenties.

She wore a black embroidered coat and a black top hat. Her black hair was combed back and tied into a ponytail with a white ribbon. Her skin was sickly pale and tired, but still smooth and plump. She looked like

She is a beautiful but decadent porcelain doll.

"Frank is a girl?" Chloe asked in shock.

"No, can you shut up first."

He looked at the twenty-year-old woman in front of him and bowed slightly: "Long time no see, Mrs. Dean."

"Ahem...Matthew, this is Mr. Bach, friend of Mr. Frank." The black-haired woman said to the supervisor, "Let them put...put...their weapons away, Matthew."

friend......

The supervisor named Matthew touched the blood on his face and waved his hands angrily, causing the armed thugs to put away their weapons.

"Thanks..."

The restless black-haired woman breathed a sigh of relief:

"Long time no see, Mr. Bach, who is this...?"

She pointed at the nun.

"Chloe, my friend."

Hoffa said: "We're coming for Frank."

"Looking for Frank?"

The woman's expression became a little dazed. Hoffa stretched out his hand and waved it in front of her, and she suddenly woke up. A hollow smile appeared on her pale face, as if she was tired after not sleeping for three or four days.

"Okay, then... come here with me."

When the woman turned around, Hoffa whispered to Chloe:

"Frank has a wife named Mary who helps him with various chores."

"Did she create those slaves?"

Chloe was still confused.

"no."

Hoffa warned softly: "Listen, Frank is not a Muggle, he is a wizard in the gray area, ruthless. Driving these refugees has no psychological burden on him at all, just like other pure-blood wizards using house elves.

.”

He patiently explained it to her, but obviously these words had no effect on a nun like Chloe who had been growing up in a convent.

"This...this is the twentieth century, how come there are still people openly enslaving others?"

She said with a trembling voice.

Hoffa only thought that her simple thoughts were ridiculous. He and the nuns were getting along quite well these days, but this guy always had a bad habit. She always seemed to be extra serious about many inexplicable details.

When she was just on the road a few days ago, she met a few stray dogs on the road and insisted on sending them to a safe place, which delayed her for a whole day. Later, she had a whim and wanted to dig holes for all the corpses she could see on the road.

Buried.

Hoffa almost went crazy. This was 194, and there were as many corpses on the roadside as there were plastic bags in the 21st century. They were buried one by one. By the time the war in Britain was over, the war would probably be over.

"What does slaves have to do with the times? They will exist if there is a need, and their existence is reasonable."

She stopped talking. After a while, she sarcastically said: "Are all your friends like this? I thought people at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry should be friends with more promising people."

"This is not a monastery. Don't come here just because of your temper. Frank is not a kind-hearted priest. If we piss him off, we won't be able to borrow a boat. We..."

"Okay, okay, I understand, don't be nagging."

The nun looked away with an annoyed look.

Hoffa sighed secretly, thinking that he must not let this guy meet a smuggler like Frank, otherwise he would start a fight as soon as they met.

...

...

Frank's house is located behind a warehouse next to the port. It is a domed stone brick house with gray fabric on the exterior wall stretched tightly on thin steel cables. There is a door at each end of the porch, and the ceiling is made of plywood, with fluorescent lights installed at intervals.

Most of the rings were broken. The humid air was filled with the smell of burning embers and concrete.

The woman in black politely opened the door for the two of them.

Hoffa said to Chloe: "Don't go in, wait for me here."

Chloe snorted angrily and stood there with her arms crossed.

Hoffa walked into Frank's house alone with Mary.

Hundreds of candles were burning in the dim room, and white wax oil was piled everywhere like stratified rocks. There was a huge stone platform in front of it, and on the stone platform was a dark marble coffin.

Hoffa didn't expect that the first thing he saw after entering was this scene. He couldn't help but turn his head and looked at the woman in black next to him in confusion.

"I didn't see Frank."

"promise,"

Mary said, "There."

Following her gaze, Hoffa looked at the sarcophagus, stared at it for a long time and then turned his head mechanically: "What are you talking about, where are the Franks?"

"Right in there."

After a pause, a sad expression appeared on her pale and tired face: "It's unlucky that you came here. He happened to die yesterday."

The room fell into absolute silence.

Hoffa: "Excuse me...what did you say?"

"Go and see for yourself."

Mary looked away sadly.

He walked forward quickly and stopped next to the marble coffin.

The words "Frank Dean" are affixed to the coffin. Inside the dark green square glass cover, an ancient copper lamp emits light, covering Frank's wrinkled old face.

Frank Dean is now forty-five years old. He is lying in a circle of not very fresh plants. He looks as haggard as an eighty-year-old man, and his body is covered with fish-scale tattoos.

Frank died?

He thought about a hundred possibilities before he came. He thought about what if Frank was unwilling to lend him a boat, what if he was too snobbish and the lion opened his mouth, and even thought about what if this guy took refuge.

What will happen to Germany?

But he never expected that he would die this month after he wrote him a letter last month.

This made Hoffa want to laugh for some reason.

From the first time I met this guy, he has been involved in endless smuggling and various transactions. He is cunning and cautious by nature, and is considered a famous master among the gray wizards.

Sooner or later...later...

What to do now? Without a ship, the plan to go to England is simply a fantasy.

His eyes moved to Frank's wife Mary, who had a sad face on one side. Since he was dead, the matter of borrowing the boat should be mentioned to his wife. But when the words came to his lips, Hoffa was a little embarrassed to say it. The other husband had just

It is too true that he would come to ask for a boat even if he died.

"How did you die?"

he asked in a heavy tone.

"I don't know, I met some terrible guy when I went to sea. When I came back, I was transported back by my men and it looked like this."

As she spoke, the woman couldn't bear the grief and covered her mouth with a handkerchief.

Pointing to the middle part of the man's body.

Hoffa's eyes stopped in the middle. He vaguely saw that under the covering clothes, Frank's body was actually in two parts, and he was neatly cut in half.

This made his heart stop for a beat.

Such a sharp sword wound can reach this level... Could it be that that guy is nearby?

"My condolences, ma'am." He patted the widow's shoulder and whispered politely.

"It's okay. Excuse me, Mr. Bach came over. What's the matter?" the woman asked, wiping her tears.

"Oh, that's right, I came here because I wanted to..."

Before he could explain his purpose clearly.

Bang!!
To be continued...