Chapter 155: The Excellent Detective Bain

Another half month passed.

Christmas drew closer. Decorated Christmas trees had begun appearing in New York’s streets and plazas, as well as inside certain department stores and shops.

The festive spirit grew stronger by the day. Children filled the streets with smiles, eagerly anticipating their presents.

Bane was strolling through a neighborhood on foot with his new partner. It wasn’t part of their patrol beat; Buck simply needed to stop by a toy store on the opposite corner to buy a Christmas present for his son. So the two of them headed there together after finishing a temporary assignment.

As they entered the store, they heard two young voices arguing.

A real pine tree stood inside, draped with ribbons and baubles and hung with little gifts—the things children loved most. Beside it sat a small, three-foot-long sleigh piled high with presents.

“There’s no such thing as Santa Claus! The fairy tales and myths are all lies. They’re just made up to trick kids like us.”

A boy who looked about ten was talking to a girl a little younger than him. Standing beneath the tree, she clutched one of the toy reindeer’s antlers and argued back just as fiercely.

“Of course Santa Claus exists! Every year, I hang my stocking by the fireplace, and I get a present!”

“Hmph. Your dad probably sneaks it in there. My dad told me ages ago that Santa Claus is just an adult in a costume.”

“And I bet you’ve never even seen him!”

The boy spoke with smug confidence.

The girl’s face flushed with anger.

“You’re lying! You’re a bad kid. You probably never get presents from Santa Claus.”

The boy’s smug expression faltered, and his face darkened. He had never received a Christmas present in his life.

“Hmph. Santa Claus isn’t real, anyway. Those other legends and myths are lies, too. My dad’s a scientist, so he must be right.”

The shopkeeper was busy helping Buck. He seemed troubled by the two children, who had been browsing separately just moments ago and had suddenly started arguing.

Bane walked over and crouched in front of them.

Even when the grown man came up, neither child showed any sign of stopping.

“All right, kids. Why are you arguing about whether Santa Claus exists right in front of the Christmas tree?”

When both children tried to speak at once, Bane quickly raised a hand to stop them.

“Every child wonders whether Santa Claus is real, and most grown-ups say he is. But whether or not he exists, I think he serves a purpose.”

“Likewise, your dad says fairy tales and legends are all made up. I’m sure he has plenty of evidence to back that up.”

The boy puffed up, ready to protest. Smiling, Bane stood and took a pair of baseball gloves from the tree, then a feathered cap.

“These are my Christmas presents to you. I think I can play Santa Claus for a moment.”

He turned toward the counter.

“Boss, I’ll take these two.”

The shopkeeper gave him an OK sign.

Both children lit up when they received their gifts. Even the boy, happily playing with the baseball gloves, seemed to have completely forgotten the argument.

Buck and Bane paid for their purchases and left the store.

“Hey, buddy, you’re really patient with kids. You’ll make a good father someday!”

Bane smiled at Buck.

“I just can’t stand to see people doubt the truth of a good story.”

“Haha. It must bring back some wonderful memories for you.”

Buck smiled knowingly.

“Yeah… important, wonderful memories…”

…

At New York Police Headquarters, the commissioner signed the promotion papers for Detective Bane James.

A distinguished officer who had survived a previous operation and received a commendation medal, Bane James had returned to work before his wounds had even fully healed. Such a thing was exceedingly rare throughout the American police force.

He had also become exceptionally dedicated to his work, solving cases at a pace unmatched by anyone else in the department.

In a short time, he had cracked several major cases, including stopping an attack planned by foreign terrorists.

Many of his colleagues believed that the death of his former partner, Jobri, had driven Bane to swear revenge on his behalf.

But Bane alone knew the truth.

As of this moment, he was a senior inspector.

The workday was over. Apart from those on duty, many officers were already heading home.

“Bane, aren’t you leaving?” Buck called as he passed Bane’s desk.

“I’m going to look through some more files. You go on ahead. And remember to hide your son’s present well. Don’t let the little guy find it before Christmas Eve.”

“Heh, you’re a real workaholic. See you tomorrow.”

On Bane’s computer screen, lines of information flickered past.

He patiently examined the files and data, searching for suitable targets.

Then he stopped on a photograph and a document.

“Xiso Albonson, former weapons systems design specialist at General Dynamics, dismissed over personal debts. Currently in Toronto, Canada…”

He transferred the information to a personal file, and the data on his screen began scrolling again.

Half an hour later, it stopped once more on a profile.

“Martin Wilson, retired physics professor at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. Currently residing in Washington, D.C…”

…

In an old church shrouded in extraordinary gloom, an elegant dining table had been set.

Delicate dishes were arranged across it, along with a silver candlestick bearing a single lit candle.

Caviar, foie gras, tender steak, and a bottle of vividly red drink that had already been opened.

At one side of the table sat the vampire Daisan, her figure striking in a tight black leather suit. At the other sat the vampire Carl, dressed in a tailcoat.

The food had been barely touched, but the drink was disappearing quickly.

A crisp notification chime sounded from a phone.

Daisan took out her mobile. Two encrypted emails, signed “Little Wooden Puppet,” had arrived.

She opened and downloaded them, forwarded them to Carl, then read them carefully.

After a long while, Daisan licked her vivid red lips, made even brighter by the drink she had just finished.

“Would you rather go to Canada or Washington, D.C.?”

Carl raised his wineglass in a gesture of invitation.

“Ladies first.”

“Hmm. Then I’ll go to Canada with Monica and Hanchi. I hear the place is lovely, and the people are all so healthy.”

She finished with a soft laugh.

“Then I’ll go to Washington. Hopefully I’ll meet a few pretty girls in one of the bars there.”

Daisan gave him a scornful look.

With a vampire’s vision, they could see perfectly well not only by candlelight but even in complete darkness.

Carl smiled awkwardly.

“All right, all right. I’ll keep myself under control. Just a taste, nothing more. I get it, I get it!”