Pote Yer had just turned the corridor when he saw Selena pushing the door open, muttering something under her breath.
He heard it was in English: "I really should have applied for some expense funds... Damn, in France you need money for everything..."
This guy isn't Dutch? Pote Yer frowned. His instinct was right—the man was indeed problematic.
He waited for Selena to leave, checked into the room next door, and climbed in through the window into Room 203.
He quickly rummaged through the luggage in the room. Other than clothes, there was only a dagger and an unfinished letter.
The letter was also in English. The main content was asking Mr. Sean to immediately send some money, or else the mission would fail. The address was in Wexford.
That's a city in Ireland.
Pote Yer squinted his eyes instantly. Clearly, this guy was a spy.
Suddenly the lock turned. Selena entered, carrying a loaf of black bread—so poor he couldn't even afford the hotel package meal.
