Chapter 142

As he finally drifted off to sleep, he dreamed of tree symbols and shadowy figures, of battles fought in the dark and secrets buried deep.

He knew that tomorrow would bring new challenges, but he was ready.

***

The old man’s room was dimly lit, filled with the scent of old books and a faint trace of his favorite pipe tobacco.

He sat in a leather armchair, a small, sturdy table beside him laden with documents and a vintage telephone.

He had later moved from the hotel to one of House Anderson's small apartment outside of town.

His driver, a tall and imposing figure, stood at attention near the door, an aura of urgency surrounding him.

"Sir, we’ve found the location of the Mafia boss," the driver said, his voice steady yet urgent.

The old man looked up, his eyes sharp and calculating despite his age. "Is the source reliable?" he asked, his voice a gravelly murmur that conveyed both authority and caution.

"Yes, sir," the driver replied without hesitation. "Our informant confirmed it. T