Robert meets them in Rome

                                    

                                          
The station seemed to be in another reality. The darkness hid details, but a faint light reflected off the old concrete, giving the whole place a mysterious aura. Jerome walked behind the others, his footsteps bouncing off the walls, lost in the emptiness of the night. It seemed to him that this place existed outside of time: the noise of the cars and the distant voices from the city sounded as if they were coming from another dimension. But none of that mattered to him. His thoughts were focused on what was to come.
Delia walked first. Her silhouette, dimly illuminated by the few street lamps, seemed determined but tense. Harvey, as usual, walked beside her, occasionally glancing back at Jerome with an expression of mild irritation. No one spoke. Only their footsteps broke the oppressive silence.
"It's like no one ever comes here," Jerome muttered, breaking the silence, his voice surprisingly loud in the empty space.
Delia didn't answer. She stopped, looking around as if searching for something. There was a concentration in her eyes. Harvey snorted softly.
"An ideal meeting place for those who don't want to be noticed," he said, looking at the abandoned trains lined up along the platform.
"Or something worse," Delia added, and there was an odd tension in her voice.
They approached one of the old carriages. Its windows were dusty and its doors were slightly open. Jerome felt a strange uneasiness growing inside him. It all seemed wrong, as if they were part of some sinister production.
"It's here," Delia whispered, pointing to the carriage. "If the information is correct, he should be inside."
"Hastings?" Jerome asked.
Delia just nodded. Harvey moved closer, his face serious. He gestured for Jerome to stay behind.
"You're the watcher, remember?" he said sharply, not giving Jerome time to respond. "Delia, lead the way."
They entered the carriage. It smelled of damp and old paint. The walls were covered in peeling paint and the floor creaked underfoot. Jerome walked last, feeling his heart begin to beat faster. He saw movement in the shadows, but when he looked closer, it was gone.
"It's quiet here, too quiet," Delia said, stopping in the center of the carriage, her hand ready in case of danger.
Harvey looked around, his eyes darting from corner to corner.
"We may have been set up," he said. "This place is... empty. No Hastings, no..."
His words were interrupted by a noise. Something fell at the end of the carriage, and all three instinctively turned in that direction. A shadow slid behind a shabby partition. Jerome felt a cold sweat run down his back.
"Who's there?" Delia asked loudly, her voice firm but with a hint of caution.
There was no answer. Instead, a soft, barely audible laugh pierced the silence. It was deep, piercing, as if someone was enjoying their confusion.
"Baselard?" Jerome blurted out before he could stop himself.
Delia and Harvey turned to look at him, their expressions both surprised and wary. The laughter stopped, but the silence became even more oppressive.
"Whoever it is," Delia said, moving closer to the source of the sound, "he's here. And we're going to find out what he knows."
Jerome followed them, unable to shake the feeling that they were being watched. The creaking of the carriage left behind a sense of an unsolved mystery, but Delia, Jerome and Jo decided not to waste any more time on empty guesses. Delia glanced briefly at her watch and waved her hand towards the illuminated platform.