Try Begging - Chapter 140.1
From that moment, a minute felt like a second.
Two privates cautiously began to tail the woman, but had to stop after a few steps because she sat down on a bench, as if waiting for someone.
“McGill!”
Leon called, and the lieutenant, waiting in civilian clothes at a corner, stood up alert.
“The target is on Platform 8, waiting. Return to your position immediately.”
McGill hesitated, unable to immediately respond. Her position? Her role had been to closely monitor and tail the woman.
“Captain, the target already knows my face and identity…”
“She knows the operation, too. She returned to have you follow her. Go now and find out her next destination!”
“Yes, Captain!”
The lieutenant dashed out of the office.
Leon turned his gaze back outside the window. Through the binoculars, the woman’s expression was stern.
She’s moving as predicted.
She looked no different than yesterday, yet something seemed to have changed; perhaps it was McGill’s misconception.
As McGill sat down, pretending not to notice, the woman turned her gaze from the platform to her.
“We meet again, Mrs. Baker.”
The woman greeted her with a cheerful voice and a laugh, but for some reason, she felt chills. As McGill answered with a sheepish smile, the woman stood up and began to walk. Not as if fleeing but leisurely leading her somewhere.
They arrived at Platform 3, where trains heading north depart. The woman sat down in the waiting room in the middle of the platform.
Grace took a deep breath as she glanced up at Winston’s pawn.
Jimmy’s voice had been echoing in her head for a while.
“Better you come back and be used again…”
I’ll gladly be used. At least I’ll choose who uses me.
With a broad smile, breaking the silence she had maintained through eight months of hardship, she spoke up.
“I’m going to Blackburn village. It’s my hometown in Brighton County, a small village with less than three hundred residents. I need to get off at Witherridge station, so could you wake me up if I fall asleep?”
“Sure, I’ll do that.”
McGill responded absently and turned back, exiting the waiting room and signaling to the soldier standing at the entrance to keep an eye on the woman before returning to the temporary operations base.
“The location of the base is in Blackburn Village, near Witherridge Station in Brighton County. The enemy size could be up to three hundred people.”
As soon as McGill reported, the temporary operations base went into full gear, preparing for a counter-rebellion operation.
“Bring the map!”
At Campbell’s command, soldiers detached a large map from the wall and spread it out on the conference room table. Soon, a flag representing the operation site was planted in a small village surrounded by forests, rivers, and mountains in the north.
“The train to Witherridge departs in forty-three minutes.”
Leon asked, as a soldier reported after checking the train schedule.
“Arrival time.”
“It arrives at Witherridge Station at 16:28.”
The first phase of the operation preparation took forty-three minutes, and the remaining time until the start of the sweeping operation was approximately six and a half hours.
Leon continued issuing orders without pause.
“Campbell.”
“Yes.”
“Call Chesterfield Air Force Base right away. Arrange for a transport plane that can carry about three people.”
As the operation commander, he needed to arrive at the operation site before the woman, necessitating the use of air travel.
With Campbell leaving the conference room, Leon directed any waiting officer.
“We’ll need to add one or two carriages to the train. Call the station master immediately.”
The distance, taking over five hours by train, was impractical to transport troops by military truck.
But had the woman slept the night before? Where had she wandered on such a cold day? Had she eaten anything? Was the child alright? With half of his nerves focused on the woman outside, Leon ordered.
“Bring the phone over here!”
It was impossible to surround and arrest three hundred people with the Western Command’s forces stationed here alone, so support from the Northern Command was needed. Picking up the receiver from a phone brought by someone, he dialed the Western Commander’s number, eyes fixed on the map, and called over an officer standing behind him.
“McGill.”
He extended a hand to the lieutenant, in which a bill was tucked.
“Chesterfield Regency Hotel Restaurant. Don’t forget the dessert.”
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