Maung Myint Kywe - Miss Sa Poe

(1)

I haven't received a single letter today. I'm not at all surprised that I haven't received one. It's been a day since I rented a small, cramped two-room flat on the second floor of a house near Oxford Street in London and opened it as my own office. I haven't received a single letter in all these days.

I closed the door to the eight-foot, ten-foot-wide room. In that room was a table and a chair. The table and chair were the ones I had imagined that one day, if the income at the Kewell Special Investigations Office increased, I would have a secretary assigned to sit in. I walked around the table and chair, then pushed open the door to the room with the small sign that said "Private" and entered. That room was my office. In other words, it was the office of me, Perry Kewell, the head of the Kewell Special Investigations Office.

 

I am not a man of luxury. But I must say that this room is a very, very depressing one. The walls are gray and dirty. Look at the furnishings: an old square table on a linoleum floor, a swivel chair, a leather chair for me, a worn rug to keep my feet warm, a hat rack, and two green iron cupboards. There is no room for any other furniture in this room.

As I prepared to sit in the swivel chair,

I heard the doorbell ring and the doorbell creaking. As if to enter the room, as the sign on the door said, "Ring the doorbell and come in." I pulled open the top drawer on the left side of the table and spread out some papers and envelopes in front of me. Then I opened a button near my knee and stood up when there was a knock on the inner door. The person who entered the room was a tall, thin man.

 

He was dressed in the latest Italian-style black suit, carrying a tightly rolled umbrella, a black hat, and a small leather handbag. His face was slightly thin and fair. His thin hair was parted in the middle of his forehead and swept back. His lips were slightly parted and he wore rimless glasses, suggesting he was a senior accountant. He smiled, his mouth wide open, revealing three gold teeth.

"Please excuse my sudden entrance, but I didn't see your secretary in the room either..."

"It's no problem."

He offered his hand again, so we shook hands and greeted each other. He introduced himself by saying his name.

"My name is Henry Martin, and I think this friend is Mr. Perry Cavell."

"That's right, please sit down, Pastor Martin."

Henry Martin thanked me and sat down in the chair in front of my desk, surveying the room. "I think Mr. Kewell is a bit busy these days."

I was wrong to think he was a senior auditor. If he was a senior auditor, he wouldn't be talking like this.

"Oh, I've been fooled by the tax department. Now, what can I do, Mr. Martin?"

"Let me give you a brief history." My voice became rough.

"My resume, okay? Just tell me the basics, Mr. Martin. I have other things to do too."

"Oh, I'm being blunt. I've come to entrust you with a very important task. So, we need to know in advance whether the future king is suitable for the task or not. Well... I think you'll accept my explanation like this."

"I'm the kind of person who will do anything for investigative work."

"That's right, sir. This is an investigation. I think I'll start. Please bear with me for three or four minutes of this strange behavior. I won't let you suffer any harm as a result."

He opened a small leather bag and took out a letter. Then he took out a thick piece of paper from the letter and read it out, paragraph by paragraph.

“Perry Cable, Anglo-French, born in France. Father: John Cable, civil engineer. Mother: Anne-Marie Lechamp, Belgian-French. Both parents and sister were killed in an air raid on Roanne, France. Escaped to England on a fishing boat. As a young man, he parachuted into northern France six times, where he intercepted important enemy intelligence.

He parachuted two days before the Normandy landings. When World War II ended, he was nominated for six medals: three from England, two from France, and one from Belgium.

Henry Martin paused and smiled at me, half-smiling. “But I refused all the medals, and the letter of refusal stated, ‘I do not accept such useless toys as medals.’” He then joined the British Royal Army. He served with the Army Counter-Intelligence Service until he reached the rank of Major. He then transferred to the police and returned to service. So, Mr. Cavell, why did you leave the Army?”

His words are indeed interesting. How much does he know? I will have to listen patiently. I will kick him out later. I answered.

"I think I'll be promoted slowly"

"What the hell, you were allowed to resign because you punched a major general who was several ranks higher than you."

He looked at the paper and continued reading.

 

“You joined the Metropolitan Police. You rose through the ranks quickly and were soon promoted to the rank of Superintendent. For the past two years you have been given a special assignment, the nature of which is not specified. You can guess what it is. You then resigned. Am I right?”

"That's right."

“Well, the word ‘resigned’ is more tolerable than ‘fired’ on your resume, isn’t it? You’ve never been able to get along with your superiors, and now you’ve had a falling out with a deputy commissioner. Never mind, and within a week you were appointed as the security officer of the Modem Germ Research Institute.”

I couldn't wait any longer and warned him.

"I know it's not that hard to get my resume if you want it, but you don't have the right to know about modems."

Matters concerning the modem germ research facility in Wilmington are classified as top secret.

"I know that very well, Mr. Cavell. There's a lot of information I know that I shouldn't know."

For example, you were fired from that modem research institute, and what you did to get fired from that position, and so on. I came to you knowing about those matters.”

I lack a lot of judgment skills.

My predictions about this person were completely wrong.

“The reason you were kicked out of Modem is because you were a loose tongue. You openly criticized the scientists and directors at Modem. The parliamentary report describes it as the Modem Health Research Institute, but the activities of that institute are controlled by the Ministry of Defense. And Modem’s main business is to test and develop new, terrifying germ weapons that can be used as weapons of war.