The harsh bite of January m nipped viciously at Caldwell’s ears, as he hunched into his worn dark brown sheepskin jacket. He had bought it sed hand in the bazaars of Portobello Market for less than nothing durier times. It was easily his favorite possession, assuming of course that the mysterious sole was still the property of Kenzo Yamamoto. The bulk of the sole weighed heavily in the knapsack, along with the few things that Caldwell had mao grab from the capsule. Everything else was expendable and Caldwell traveled super light anyway. He had brought the Slav’s vial of death with him as insurance.
His amber-hued eyes were on high alert. If there was anyone on his tail, he wao make sure he was aware of it. Apart from a bearded homeless man, wearing enough tattered clothing to fill a Salvation Army store, dousing a makeshift fire by urinating on it and cursing to himself, the streets were deserted. It was New Year’s Day after all, and the citizens of ……（内容加载失败！）
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