Dr. Lou Hastings and Mr. Baselard

The man at the table watched their every move carefully. His gaze was cold and focused, but now there was a sense of weariness in his voice, as well as a deep respect for their resolve. He spoke slowly, choosing each word carefully, as if trying to convey the seriousness of what was happening.

"The subject of your mission is Dr. Louis Hastings. He works at a children's hospital, and although his reputation is impeccable at first glance, there are serious suspicions regarding his connections to the Church of Satan," he began, not taking his eyes off the documents in front of him. "We have received information that Hastings maintains contacts with a man named Dr. Baselard. However, what is even more interesting is that this Baselard... he seems to exist and not exist at the same time. No one has ever seen him face to face, and his existence raises many questions.

Jerome listened, his mind racing. The task was becoming more difficult. Becoming friends with someone involved in such murky business was a tall order. But the man they were about to work with was more than just a mysterious figure. He was a link in a chain of something much bigger and more dangerous than Jerome could have imagined.

The man at the table continued, his voice becoming a little more tense.

"This so-called Doctor Baselard may be just an illusion, the result of Hastings's mental illness, but if so, why do all the clues lead to him? His name appears in all sorts of documents, and even stranger, his notes and the diaries he leaves behind contain descriptions of people no one seems to have ever met.

Jerome, feeling the storm of thoughts in his head not subsiding, looked at Delia once again. She was standing next to him, her attention completely focused on the man's story, but Jerome could have sworn that she was thinking about something at that moment. There was no expression of fear on her face, only interest and confidence. She was ready for this, as always, and this gave him strength.

"How do we get into this Hastings's circle?" Delia asked, her voice even, though there was a slight tension in her eyes.

The man at the table turned to face her, his gaze cold but assessing her determination.

"He is a respected figure in medical circles, especially among parents. It will be difficult to get close to him directly, but we assume that he attends special closed events where you can find him in an informal setting. Jo, you will have to join his circle. As a specialist, you can offer your help, for example, in organizing medical projects or consultations. In your case, it will look like a sincere desire to help. You can become part of his network."

Jerome felt his nervousness increase. It was more than just anxiety. The mission they had been given was dangerous, and not just physically. Working with people like this was always a game on the edge, where every move and every word could be decisive. He knew they could get caught in a trap from which there was no escape if they were not extremely careful.

The man at the desk wasted no time in taking several photographs out of a folder and laying them out in front of them. He was a man who could do things quickly and efficiently, without losing his focus for a second.

"Here's the target," he said, pointing to one of the photographs. It showed a man in a formal business suit, with a cold, stern face and a piercing gaze. There was no warmth in his eyes, only calculation and cold determination. "Your relationship with him will decide everything. Do you understand?"

Jerome felt his heart take a sharp breath and then return to its normal rhythm. He nodded, but something inside him was clenching. The man in the photograph was not ordinary. There was something frightening in his gaze, like he could see right through you, and it raised a wave of doubt in Jerome.

Delia sat across from him, her gaze focused. She studied the photo carefully, her fingers slowly sliding over the surface of the photograph, as if getting to know the man all over again. She showed no fear or hesitation. It was clear. Delia was a professional.

"I understand," she replied, not taking her eyes off the photograph. There was not the slightest note of hesitation in her voice. She was confident as always. Not only did she understand what needed to be done, but she was prepared to do it, despite all the danger.

Jerome couldn't help but notice the confidence in her face, in her eyes. She could go through anything without breaking. But something inside Jerome stirred. His own uncertainty about the mission was nagging at him. He would have preferred that they walk this path together, shoulder to shoulder, rather than alone. But sharing the path was not always easy.

He continued to watch Delia, feeling how she was almost absorbed in her analysis of the situation. Her gaze was cool and professional, like someone who knows her target and is ready to act. It was both fascinating and terrifying.

He tried to gather his thoughts, to bring himself back to reality. To the fact that they weren't just in this room, but on the threshold of serious business, where every movement, every word, even a glance - everything mattered. Jerome knew that Delia could handle this, but he wasn't sure that he was ready. He couldn't leave her alone in this.

"Are you sure we can do this?" he asked quietly, unable to keep his doubts inside any longer. He turned to the man at the table, but his voice was directed at Delia, as if he were looking to her for support, for confirmation.

The man at the table looked up, but his face remained impassive. He saw their exchange of glances, but did not intervene.

Delia turned to Jerome and paused for a moment. Her gaze was soft, but it still held the same strength it always did. She realized he was looking in her eyes for reassurance, because despite her calm appearance, she, too, was not without doubts.