Thirty Eight

Zech peered at the half-empty glass, leaving Cailon's question in the air. The man drank the remaining content of his glass and inhaled exasperatedly.

“Whenever I mentioned his name, you keep silent. I understand. He is not an easy topic.” Cailon's facial expression changed; the gloom set on his eyes and stared at his empty glass and tsked. “Before I forgot. A postcard we received at the office, which is for you.”

He took under his coat the simple white postcard and handed it to Zech. Full of astonishment, he stared at what Cailon had reached for and opened it.

He frowned slightly when he read the black ink calligraphy words.

‘Pigeon is here in Paris.’

"Didn't you receive any information that Pigeon is here in Paris?" he asked Cailon, who looked at him with a confused expression on his face.

“No, why? What is written on the postcard? ”

"Pigeon is here in Paris." Zech showed what was written on the postcard which Cailon's eyes widened.

He stood up from his seat and took the phone out o