Chapter 84: Key Target for Special Attention

Saburo Shibuya was not particularly surprised when Zhou Sen suddenly expressed that he did not wish to be a policeman. In fact, aside from the “Shcherkin” case, Zhou Sen was rather unqualified for his role in many respects. If it hadn’t been for Anthony Robin, Zhou Sen would have been dismissed from the force long ago for his repeated absences, evasion of duties, tardiness, and early departures, among other infractions. The notion that he could have made remarkable progress every two years was nothing short of a joke.

“Zhou Sen, though you’re not willing in your heart to be a policeman, you have nonetheless taken on the role, and have done fairly well — at least as far as I know. In your patrol district, crime rates are much lower than in other areas, the people live in peace, and your law enforcement is gentle; the people generally speak highly of you. Of course, you are a bit lazy and undisciplined, but those are minor flaws and do not detract from your overall worth,” Saburo Shibuya said.

Akiyama Nosuke’s eyebrows twitched involuntarily. Shibuya was notorious for his strictness, especially when it came to rules and regulations for his subordinates. How was it that, when it came to Zhou Sen, these breaches of discipline were suddenly minor, inconsequential matters? The double standard was astonishing.

“Thank you, Chief Shibuya. I truly am not up to the task. It’s one thing if I embarrass myself, but it would be a grave matter if I brought shame to you,” Zhou Sen insisted, gritting his teeth.

“Enough. I only wanted to transfer you to the Foreign Affairs Division. If you don’t want to go, you don’t have to. Are you going to resign in front of your own supervisor, Akiyama?” Shibuya said.

Zhou Sen looked sheepish. He had indeed considered it, even if only as a test, though he knew the likelihood of Shibuya agreeing was slim. Still, by trying, he could at least confirm that the Japanese had a grand scheme involving him; otherwise, why would they go to such lengths? He was not Anthony’s father, after all, and hardly someone Shibuya would invite through Akiyama Nosuke to a place like “Musashino” for a private discussion.

“Zhou Sen, I’m sure Akiyama has already told you about Mr. Anthony. He sacrificed himself for the glorious expansion of the Empire of Japan. Although we cannot yet make public his heroic deeds or the news of his death, we will compensate you accordingly,” Shibuya explained.

“Thank you, Chief Shibuya. May I ask how my foster father died?” Zhou Sen bowed slightly as he asked.

“Akiyama, you explain,” Shibuya said.

“Yes, sir.” Akiyama Nosuke nodded at Shibuya, then turned to Zhou Sen. “Zhou Sen, you must have met Rozayevsky, the deputy leader of the Russian Patriotic Alliance and deputy director of the Russian Affairs Bureau in Ice City. He is also a close partner of the Empire of Japan. Your foster father died during an operation codenamed ‘Bear Work.’ The target of this operation was the First Secretary of the Russian Communist Party, Joseph. Unfortunately, the plan was leaked, and the operation failed. Four of our team members died, including your foster father, Mr. Anthony, who was serving as our guide…”

Zhou Sen listened in silence, now almost certain that Anthony’s involvement was in the infamous “Bear Hunt” operation.

“Mr. Akiyama, who leaked the operation?” Zhou Sen asked.

“We are still investigating, but the perpetrator is cunning, and we have yet to find any trace,” Akiyama replied.

“What about my foster father’s body? How can you be sure he has died?” Zhou Sen pressed on.

“Afterwards, we saw a related report in a British newspaper, which confirmed the news of Anthony’s death,” Shibuya explained.

“Do you have the newspaper?”

“I have a copy here. You may take a look,” Shibuya said, nodding to Akiyama. Akiyama immediately took an English-language newspaper from his briefcase and handed it over.

Zhou Sen quickly stood to receive it with both hands. He knew some English, but the original Zhou Sen did not, so he said, “I don’t know English—none of this makes sense to me.”

“My oversight,” Akiyama quickly said, approaching again to point out a small news item in the center of the front page, translating as he read: “The news says, translated, according to TASS, the Ministry of Defense of the Republic of Georgia announced that on the 25th, four individuals who had illegally crossed the border from Turkey were shot and killed…”

Zhou Sen’s eyes reddened. Four members of the “Bear Work” operation team died, matching the news report. That was enough to confirm Anthony’s death. The Soviets would hardly cover for the Japanese; they’d almost named them directly as the masterminds.

“Zhou Sen, my condolences. Though we couldn’t bring back Mr. Anthony’s remains, should the opportunity arise, we will do our utmost to return his ashes for proper burial,” Shibuya said with a slight, apologetic bow.

“May I now establish a memorial tomb for my foster father?” Zhou Sen asked, tears streaming down.

“You may, but it must be low-key. Publicly, we can only announce that he died of illness in a foreign land,” Shibuya said after some thought.

“My foster father said he was going to Fengtian on business before he left. If there were a telegram from Fengtian explaining the situation, and I went there to retrieve his ashes and bring them back, would that…” Zhou Sen pondered aloud.

“That’s a good suggestion, Zhou Sen. No need for you to go to Fengtian; we can arrange everything for you,” Shibuya agreed. This was an excellent way to conceal the truth.

“Thank you, Chief Shibuya.”

“Zhou Sen, please accept my condolences,” Shibuya said solemnly.

“Zhou Sen, although Mr. Anthony left no will, it was surely his wish for you to inherit his position and status. Please do not refuse again,” Akiyama said.

“My foster father’s company and businesses were managed mostly by Uncle Ivanovich, his brother and partner. I think the position of ‘Pastor’ is more suitable for him than for me,” Zhou Sen replied.

“Ivanovich manages the business side, but the ‘Pastor’ has other responsibilities that he cannot fulfill,” Shibuya mused.

“What else is there?” Zhou Sen asked in confusion.

“Mr. Anthony was also responsible for training and deploying new members and handling communications. He was a key figure in the Russian Patriotic Alliance, bridging the gap between generations. He had a deputy, but unfortunately, that deputy also died,” Shibuya said.

“What?” Zhou Sen was startled, and even Akiyama looked surprised, as if he hadn’t known about this person.

“That deputy was Shcherkin,” Shibuya said slowly.

“What?” Akiyama exclaimed, losing his composure. Zhou Sen was also shocked, though he had vaguely suspected it. Hearing it confirmed by Shibuya was still astonishing.

“We believed Shcherkin was a Soviet spy infiltrating the Matsue Daily News, so we took action against him. We didn’t realize he was Anthony’s deputy,” Shibuya explained.

Akiyama was dumbstruck. Zhou Sen, too, was lost in confusion.

Shibuya clapped his hands. “Come in.”

A familiar scent drifted into Zhou Sen’s nostrils — in truth, he’d noticed it as soon as he entered, but had pretended not to.

Now that Shibuya was having her show herself, was this a showdown? Zhou Sen’s heart raced. If he didn’t handle this well tonight, he might not see another dawn.

Sure enough, as he expected, a face he knew all too well appeared — Susanna, whom he had personally sent to the Nangang police station. At the sight of Susanna, Zhou Sen was so startled that he dropped his wine glass: “Su—Su—”

His panicked reaction did not escape the eyes of Shibuya and Akiyama.

“Don’t be alarmed, Zhou Sen. Miss Susanna is one of us,” Shibuya said, rising to help the fallen Zhou Sen to his feet.

“O—one of us…” Zhou Sen’s face had turned white with “shock”; his tongue seemed tied, and he stammered.

“Zhou Sen, this is a long story. Please let me explain,” Shibuya said gently, taking note of Zhou Sen’s reaction.

“Y-yes…” Zhou Sen stammered, feigning lingering panic. At the same time, he realized that the kidnapping earlier in the year had merely been a test and a means of identifying him.

The Japanese had suspected Anthony, and then him. As for Shcherkin’s identity, he was still uncertain. How much of what the Japanese said could be trusted? He dared not say. Was Shcherkin killed by mistake, or for some other reason? That remained unclear. Susanna’s dubious identity, however, he had known for some time, though he had never mentioned it to anyone.

Since the Japanese were playing a game of “verification,” he could only pretend ignorance. Now that they had revealed the truth, he had no choice but to play along, or he might not survive the ordeal.

He had to appear shocked and frightened, but not too much so — a true test of acting and composure.

“This matter began over half a year ago,” Shibuya began, a natural storyteller. “At that time, there was internal strife in the Soviet Far Eastern Military District. Some high-ranking officials fled to Manzhouli with secret intelligence. Soviet agents clashed fiercely with our own reception team. The Empire eventually prevailed, but we lost many of our own. Investigation revealed that someone had secretly communicated our operation route to the Soviets. Fortunately, we were cautious and changed our plans at the last minute. Our investigation eventually focused on the journalist Shcherkin, who had participated in the secret operation. However, we had no direct evidence, nor did we know of Shcherkin’s connection to Anthony. So I arranged for Susanna to approach him under the guise of a fleeing Russian, even developing a covert romantic relationship…”

Zhou Sen understood now: the Japanese intelligence agency had likely suspected the wrong person (or perhaps not), and had disposed of someone important. Now, with no other option, they had pinned their hopes on him.

Their goal was twofold: first, to recover the list of agents Anthony had planted in the Soviet Far East; second, to contact and reactivate those individuals.

With Shcherkin dead, Zhou Sen had become the new focus of their efforts.