Try Begging - Chapter 150.2
Grace kept a safe distance as she followed him. The shops became sparse, and soon clotheslines crisscrossed above in the narrowing alleyways, a sure sign they were heading into the slums.
“Whoo…”
She sighed and halted her steps. Continuing further would be too risky. While her upscale attire was effective in evading pursuit by Winston’s forces, it was unsuitable for tailing someone, especially in a slum.
Her attention turned to a group of kids huddled on the side of the alley.
“Kids.”
The children are drawing on the pavement with bits of chalk. They looked up.
“Did you see the man who just passed by?”
“Yes.”
The oldest-looking boy among them replied.
“Do you know where he lives?”
“He always comes and goes over there around the corner.”
The boy pointed towards the corner where the man had disappeared.
“Do you think you could follow him and see where he goes? But don’t get too close or talk to him.”
As she pulled out a silver coin, the boy’s eyes lit up. He quickly stood and dashed toward the corner. Not long after, the boy came running back, excitedly reporting,
“There’s a blue building at the end of that alley. He went in there, but I couldn’t see which floor he went to.”
There was no need to go there since the military would hunt him down like a ray.
Grace handed the coin to the eager boy and distributed some chocolates from her bag to the other envious kids.
“Don’t tell anyone who asked you to do this.”
With the children nodding, she left for the busier part of town. She entered the nearest bank to use a phone booth. The end of the month meant the bank was busy enough that no one would remember a woman using the phone.
“Please connect me to 5214 Berkshire West, Winsford.”
She dialed a familiar phone number and used a random name.
“Bridget Davies speaking.”
Shortly, a voice responded.
[ “First Special Missions Unit, how can we assist you?” ]
As always, the military’s tone was firm.
“Hello, I called after seeing the number on the wanted poster. Is this the place where you receive reports on the rebels?”
Grace asked, pretending as if she was making her first-ever report.
[ “Yes, that’s correct.” ]
“Well, I think someone I know might be involved with the rebels.”
She then relayed the descriptions of the two men she had seen in the cafe, their hideout’s location, and the details of their meeting later that night.
Once she had safely completed her mission in Dunwich, she didn’t have a moment to rest. She had to leave immediately. It was only a matter of time before the commander of the First Special Missions Unit would figure out her identity.
She quickly returned to her hotel to pick up the luggage that she had left with the concierge, loaded it into a taxi, and headed to the train station. She bought a ticket to her next destination; the train was due to arrive in thirty minutes.
Grace entered the waiting room on the platform to escape the cold. Glancing around the sparsely filled room, she chose a bench in front of a pillar.
“I’ll put this here for you.”
“Thank you.”
The porter, who had been carrying her luggage since she got out of the taxi, said. He neatly placed the bag by her feet, and she gave him a gold coin in thanks. He politely thanked her and left.
All she had was one suitcase large enough to fit her entire body. If she hadn’t been pregnant, she could have easily carried it herself.
“Phew…”
She stretched her calves to relieve the numbness and gazed at the pillar in front of her.
The pillar had a wanted poster with her description.
Mid to late twenties, turquoise eyes, a small mole under the left eye, slim build, pregnant and due in May.
Grace adjusted her sunglasses on her nose bridge and looked around. Old women chatting, a middle-aged man flipping through documents presumably for a business trip. No one paid her any attention.
“Oh my… What could her story be?”
A young woman sat a seat away, read the poster, and tilted her head. She was completely unaware that she could have simply asked the pregnant woman beside her.
That was why Grace wore expensive clothes and heavy makeup. Looking poor would have made her a suspect to match the description on the poster. However, a well-to-do woman wouldn’t typically be associated with a missing person.
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