Chapter 1254 Starlight Men's Health Club
Wall Street, South Manhattan, New York, USA.
Sam squatted quietly at the entrance of the stairs of a company called Prologue Investments. His impatient expression showed that he was waiting for someone.
Last night he took Scrinker and the others to Neverland Ranch. Unsurprisingly, the Muggle star didn't know Vincent. They had only exchanged a few words on an MTV music video and hadn't crossed paths since.
Scringer, refusing to believe in such things, returned to New York and embarked on a prologue to investing on Wall Street.
But the sun had already set, and the place was long closed.
So, early this morning, Scrimgeour, still unwilling to give up, dragged Sam along again.
An hour passed, and apart from the occasional argument, there was no further noise from upstairs.
"These British guys are so slow..." Sam looked up at the blue sky and white clouds, feeling that such a nice day shouldn't be wasted waiting for someone.
He got up and headed straight upstairs to Prologue Investment, but before he could even go in, he saw Scrinker angrily slam the door and leave.
Wow—judging from that expression, he's definitely come up empty-handed again.
Sam suppressed a laugh. "Director Scrinker, have you found anything out?"
Scrimgeour took a deep breath, turned around and glared at the door behind him. "No, they don't even know Wayne is the chairman of their own company. They just received orders to send someone to sign the music copyright transfer documents with that Muggle star."
Vincent is a meticulous guy, he leaves no room for error.
Sam coughed lightly. "Okay, so where do we go next?"
Scrimgeour's gaze was sharp as a lion's hunting instinct: "Go find the person who gave the order; I've already found out who he is."
"Who is he?"
“Lazarus Nosferatu, one of the directors of Prologue Investments, has a Muggle clubhouse not far from here. Let’s go find him now.”
Sam smirked.
He had a very strong premonition that they would still gain nothing next.
In Manhattan, on Fifth Avenue, amidst towering skyscrapers, stands a building with a retro design.
Scrimgeour and Sam stood before a large brass door, with the Aurors from England standing quietly behind them.
Sam looked up at the club's extremely flamboyant gold signboard, which read "Starlight Men's Health Club," and his eyes twitched violently.
Such an improper name must contain a lot of shady dealings.
Just as he was imagining what projects the clubhouse would offer, Scrinker rudely pushed open the brass door in front of him.
A powerful wave of sound swept over them, instantly engulfing them.
"Playing this exciting game in broad daylight?" Sam, with a hint of excitement in his eyes, was the first to enter the club.
But outside the hall, waiters in tailcoats stopped them.
“I’m very sorry, gentlemen,” the waiter said, glancing at their clothes, “our Starlight Men’s Wellness Club has certain dress requirements for its guests.”
Sam became even more excited upon hearing this.
Scrimgeour's reaction was quite different; he frowned deeply. "What are your demands?"
The waiter smiled slightly and said, "Sir, we require our guests to dress like gentlemen."
Sam almost burst out laughing.
Scrimgeour had been running around a lot lately, and his hair was standing on end like a lion's mane. Coupled with his wrinkled suit jacket, he certainly didn't look like a gentleman at all.
"What did you say?" The Aurors behind the two erupted in chaos.
One of them lightly shook his suit jacket and said, "Come here and tell me, what's wrong with me being a gentleman?"
The waiter maintained his smile and gestured to his elegant bow tie. "Sir, you should at least wear a tie."
Sam was trembling with suppressed anger.
The waiter at this Muggle club is really interesting; he managed to humiliate the Englishman with just a few words.
Scrimgeour glanced at Sam, whose face was flushed red, and reluctantly pulled out his FBI badge from his pocket.
The waiter remained calm. "So you are FBI agents. But Commissioner Smith, our club pays its taxes on time. May I ask what you're here to investigate?"
Scrimgeour, his face dark, glared at Sam, who shrugged and said nonchalantly, "Well... let's experience life."
The waiter was clearly professionally trained; his calm face showed no emotion. "I see. Then, all you FBI agents, please be sure to comply with our dress code."
“Of course.” Sam reached into his pocket for his wand, and when he pulled his hand out, a bright red tie was visible.
Scrimgeour and the Aurors behind him followed suit, reluctantly wearing ties, their attire barely passable.
The waiter led them into the hall, which was extremely luxuriously decorated. Dim light seeped naturally from the ceiling, and the air was filled with the scent of cigars and perfume, enveloping them in an ambiguous atmosphere.
As Sam walked along, he couldn't help but ask, "Um, does your club have any special programs?"
The waiter turned around and gave him a polite smile. "Sir, we are a legitimate club."
How formal is it?
"We can provide receipts and invoices."
Sam looked disappointed. "Oh, I see."
Scrimgeour's facial muscles twitched slightly. "I'd like to ask, is your boss here?"
"Yes, we are." The waiter led them to the lounge area in the center of the hall. "Does Commissioner Smith know our boss?"
“No.” Scrinker looked away and glanced at the massage chairs in the lounge area. “I have a friend whose dream is to open a high-end luxury club like this. If possible, I would like to get to know him.”
The waiter nodded. "I see. Our boss really enjoys making friends. I'll explain the situation to him later."
He gestured for them to sit down, "This is your first time visiting our club, so let me introduce our projects."
The Starlight Men's Wellness Club offers a wide variety of services. The most basic "Gentleman's Standard Package" includes a bath, hydrotherapy massage, and sauna. More upscale services include hot stone massage, aromatherapy, full-body scrub, lymphatic drainage, ice bath, hot springs, and even traditional Chinese medicine massage.
Sam grew increasingly bored as he listened. "Alright, give each of us a 'Gentleman's Standard Package'."
Scrinker glared at him fiercely. "No, we need to discuss this."
They came to investigate, not to enjoy themselves.
Sam scoffed, "You're the boss now, so I'll listen to you."
The waiter smiled and nodded, then looked at the front desk, which was not far from the lounge area. "Okay, please feel free to come to the front desk if you need anything."
After he left, Scrimgeour and the Aurors discussed their next move in hushed tones.
Sam wanted to join in, but they glared at him and shut him down.
"Tch...what's so great about it..."
When Scrimgeour heard his rambling, he suddenly felt a throbbing, burning sensation in his temples, as if they were about to explode.
How could such a carefree and irresponsible person be the best Auror in the Magic Congress? If this guy were his subordinate, he would have thrown him out long ago.
……
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