socalfunplaces Chapter 17 Looting the Asakusa Trading Company Warehouse
Chapter 17 Looting the Asakusa Trading Company Warehouse
The postman delivered intelligence, which Yan Shuo unfolded and read. It was a message from the Bluebird Group: "Xiao Lin has 'bumped into' the 'fake spy' at the dilapidated temple in Nanshi. Wu Sibao rewarded him with ten yuan and said, 'You'll be transferred to the action team to run errands in a few days.'"
Yan Shuo put down the newspaper and smiled: "Finally, I've been promoted one level. I'll slowly get to the core level. There's a long road ahead."
In the afternoon, Yan Shuo made arrangements to get several vehicles, new or old, including cars, a few small trucks (for future use), and a few motorcycles for convenience. They could buy them, steal them, anything that could be used immediately, and then they were to be hidden away.
Yan Shuo called Chen Rui (Qingren) and Zheng Fei (Jiying) from the Black Knife Group over and pointed at the map with his fingertips: "Choose an old Ford model for the stolen car, scratch the paint and change the license plate to one from Nanshi; buy a car from a used car dealership in the French Concession, remember to use fake identities—hide them all in an abandoned textile factory in Zhabei, wrap the wheels tightly with cloth, and don't leave any ruts."
As it was getting dark, Yan Shuo led Li Gang and Wang An to the vicinity of the Asakusa Trading Company's warehouse at the dock.
"These four gatekeepers change shifts every eight hours. I've figured that out in the last two days," Li Gang said with a smile in a low voice.
"Hmm, do they sleep at night?"
"Definitely. They've been living peacefully for so long, they're all numb to it. In three hours at most, they'll be asleep, snoring loudly with their guns in their arms."
"Oh, are there any others? Just two soldiers?"
"Yes, but they sleep in the dormitories and don't stand guard at night! They're all laborers who carry loads. The Japanese don't trust them. They're good at working, but as for guarding, well, the Japanese soldiers are more reliable."
When they went to the dock in the evening, Wang An had disguised himself as a water carrier and wandered around the Asakusa Foreign Firm warehouse twice. He pulled his tattered straw hat down and leaned close to Yan Shuo, his face still covered in mud and grime: "Those four Japanese soldiers are all lazybones. They always slack off after their shift. I heard them say, 'We drank sake tonight and are so sleepy we can't keep our eyes open.'"
Li Gang patted the gun at his waist and said in a low, gruff voice, "Those three Japanese soldiers in the dormitory are sleeping like logs. Yesterday, I squatted by the wall and their snoring could drown out the sound of the waves."
The three of them huddled behind the rocks and waited. Yan Shuo stared at the hands of his pocket watch—11:45. Sure enough, they heard mumbled Japanese coming from the direction of the warehouse, followed by a dull thud, like a gun butt hitting the ground.
"Make your move," he whispered the order.
Wang secretly pulled out a palm-sized earthenware jar, uncorked it, and slipped it through the crack in the dormitory window—the sleeping pills were his own concoction, mixed with menthol. They were odorless when dispersed in the wind, and within half a minute, the snoring in the dormitory stopped.
Li Gang then pulled out a short knife, crouched down and pressed himself against the warehouse door. Taking advantage of the moment when the Japanese soldier rolled over, he slid the blade down the soldier's neck without making a sound.
Within minutes, the trucks arrived—three large trucks and about ten strong laborers. Li Gang smashed open the gate and called his men inside to unload the goods.
"Boss, here's a telegraph machine! And sulfanilamide! This is rice, and other Western medicine. This is cloth!"
Yan Shuo scanned the boxes, "First, transport sulfonamides and Western medicine. Then, if we have time, transport cloth and rice; otherwise, forget about it. Take any other machinery and equipment you see. We don't need the common, unremarkable machinery; we only want the rare stuff! Goods we've never seen before are definitely valuable. Damn, how come there are bullets here!" Yan Shuo said, checking each box one by one, suddenly discovering many bullet boxes. He was immediately filled with curiosity, "Do Japanese trading companies also deal in arms?"
"Why aren't you doing it! We have shells! Look here! A 60mm mortar! And this, a sighting device!"
Suddenly, the horn of a patrol boat sounded from the dock—Yan Shuo immediately shouted, "Turn off the lights! Hide behind the containers!" Just as everyone shrank into the shadows, the searchlights on the boat swept over, the beams of light flickering at the warehouse entrance before turning away.
Once the ship's horn had faded into the distance, Yan Shuo wiped the sweat from his brow: "Hurry up and move it, don't dawdle!"
"Move! Move! Move quickly!" There's so much good stuff, if we don't move it soon, we'll be doomed when it gets light.
After the three trucks, fully loaded, drove away, Yan Shuo told the rest of the people to get in their cars and leave first. He said he was going home, as his home was very close by, so everyone left.
The warehouse was piled high with crates almost reaching the ceiling. When Li Gang pried open the first crate, his eyes lit up: "Boss! It's sulfanilamide! A whole crate full!" Yan Shuo leaned over and touched the medicine bottle. The words "Military First Aid" on the label stung his eyes—this was something that could save lives on the front lines. Further on, there were radio transmitter parts, 60mm mortar barrels, ammunition boxes wrapped in oil paper, and even the cloth was fine British velvet, enough to make camouflage.
Once all three trucks were full, Yan Shuo went back and ran his fingertips along the containers—a flash of blue light from his spatial ring, and the remaining Western medicine, shells, and two tons of rice were all collected. He even kicked the rat holes in the corner to make sure no trace was left.
A beaming Yan Shuo, barely inside the house, grabbed Li Zhiyao and spun her around before scooping her up in his arms, his eyes gleaming with laughter: "We struck gold today!" Li Zhiyao was about to speak when he swept her up in his arms and carried her upstairs. Wang Xiaohong, embarrassed, quickly grabbed her bowl and retreated to her room. Even after closing the door, she could still hear laughter coming from upstairs. She covered her face and crouched by the bed, muttering softly, "Brother Jie is so shameless..."
With Wang Xiaohong's mouth agape as if she could stuff half a steamed bun inside, Yan Shuo carried Li Zhiyao upstairs. Within minutes, soft moans and gasps could be heard from inside the room.
Wang Xiaohong was so embarrassed she couldn't stay there any longer. She quickly replayed the video and barred the door shut. "Brother Jie is really ridiculous! There's someone else here!"
During the day, Yan Shuo went to work at the Ximei Trading Company and saw a large group of people coming from across the street, along with several soldiers, who were arguing with the French Concession police. They were exchanging words back and forth, making quite a scene.
This is the French Concession; large-scale Japanese troops couldn't get in. The French didn't care how important your business was; soldiers weren't allowed in. Even secret agents had to be disguised to get in.
In short, cases in the French Concession were to be handled by the police station, and no one was allowed to interfere.
After a long commotion, the British, French, Americans, and Germans from the Municipal Council finally stepped forward, and the Portuguese and Italians also joined in the fun. The Japanese retreated with a lot of grumbling, leaving behind a bunch of plainclothes agents who were even disarmed.
Go ahead and investigate. In the French Concession, an agent without guns is like a toothless tiger. They're timid and hesitant, and they don't even dare to chase after criminals.
Li Zhiyao came to this area to shop in the afternoon. Yan Shuo saw her and told her to pass on a message: take advantage of the enemy agents' weakness and quickly find an opportunity to kill some of them.
Let's make a scene, the more lively the better!
Yan Shuo chuckled to himself.
Lucas watched Yan Shuo leaning on the second-floor railing, enjoying the spectacle at the Asakusa Trading Company, and walked over, leaning on his cane. He was wearing a perfectly pressed suit, his bow tie was impeccably tied, and his German accent carried an aristocratic air of rigor: "Bernder, gloating over others' troubles is not a virtue taught by the Junker family."
Yan Shuo immediately stopped talking, his eyes wide with shock: "Mr. Wolf, I'm not gloating! Listen—four armed soldiers are dead! I want to see what kind of bad guys could do this to people. A whole warehouse of goods, worth over 10 silver dollars! What kind of bad guys could commit such a big crime? We need to keep a close watch on our warehouse! My God, soldiers, armed ones, all shot dead!" Yan Shuo exclaimed in shock. He pounded on the railing, his voice so loud that it drew the attention of the surrounding staff, looking exactly like a frightened rich young master.
"Ah, these war-torn years, with large-scale banditry, it's terrifying. Bernd, do you have any skilled friends? The kind who know martial arts? I'll offer a high price to hire them to guard our warehouse, and we'll be armed too!"
Yan Shuo chuckled inwardly, but put on a troubled expression: "I'll try contacting some of my former classmates. Some of them know veterans... I should be able to find someone reliable." He knew Lucas's background all too well—this former heir to the Earl of Junkers, though he had lost his noble title, hid the family's wealth in the trading company. He was meticulous in his work, and as long as it was "for safety," he was willing to spend any amount of money.
When Li Zhiyao got home from get off work, she heard Yan Shuo say that he wanted her to work as a saleswoman at a foreign company. She immediately raised her eyebrows: "Saleswoman? She can get in touch with customers' order forms, which is perfect for finding out which foreign companies are supplying goods to the Japanese puppet regime."
Wang Xiaohong huddled in the corner of the sofa, clutching a cushion, and asked softly, "Won't it be safe for me to be home alone...?"
Yan Shuo took out a small Browning white cigarette and put it in her hand: "Here, hide it well. If someone knocks on the door, look through the peephole first—the Black Knife Squad will leave someone at the alley entrance to keep watch, so it's very safe. We work during the day and come back at night."
After Wang Xiaohong returned to her room, Yan Shuo leaned back on the sofa, tracing circles on the coffee table with his fingertips: "Once Lucas believes it, send most of the Black Knife, Lone Wolf, and Yellow Dog groups to work at the West American Trading Company, and while they're at it, get some wages and residency permits for German expatriates in Shanghai! With this kind of protection, if anything happens, the police station and Japanese spies will have to scratch their heads, and we can hold out for a while longer."
In a while, I'll suggest to Lucas that he open a branch in the Japanese concession, the International Settlement, the British Concession, and the Chinese-controlled area. Hmph, life as a secret agent wouldn't be so great.
Li Zhiyao smiled and said, "The idea of opening branches is even better—establish a base in each concession, which will make it convenient to transmit intelligence and hide supplies in the future."
Yan Shuo tapped the coffee table with his fingertips: "Lucas only cares about money. If I tell him that 'the merchants in the Japanese concession are short of Western medicine,' he'll definitely agree. Then we can put the Yellow Dog Group members in as shop assistants, and they'll be able to find out everything about the smuggling routes of the traitors."
This group of agents, disguised as "foreign firm employees," quickly wove a network in the various concessions of Shanghai that even the Japanese and their collaborators couldn't fathom.
Historically, if given the chance, try to get a Portuguese residency permit, or even better, find a way to get Portuguese citizenship—that would be even better!