Chapter 89: The Secretary "Anna"

The roster, this thing—it could be a slip of paper, a strip of film, or a string of Morse code... Anything was possible. And as for where it might be hidden, that was even harder to say. When someone wants to hide something, especially something so small, they could tuck it away in a place you’d never imagine, or perhaps in a spot you might think of but never pay attention to.

The act of hiding is usually tied to a person’s routines, habits, and their understanding of safety. Some prefer to keep things on their person. Others like to conceal things within their favorite possessions. Some are careless, leaving items in plain sight where anyone could see them, yet everyone overlooks them. Still others hide things in unfamiliar places—so that even if discovered, no one would recognize their significance.

If Old Anthony were to hide something, where would he stash such an important roster?

Zhou Sen drew the curtains in the study and, moving quietly, searched every possible spot. He even dismantled the radio, but found nothing. Would it be in the secret room in the storage area downstairs? While Yin Lina slept, he slipped down and searched the secret room for over an hour, but again, nothing. He even checked the storage room itself, to no avail.

Perhaps it was hidden at the company? If that were the case, Yin Wannovich would surely have found it by now—would it still be Zhou Sen’s turn to look? Was it possible the roster had already been entrusted to someone else for safekeeping—most likely Anthony’s assistant, Sherkin, as the Japanese had mentioned? That would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Sweating and exhausted, Zhou Sen continued his search until midnight before finally returning to his room to rest.

Early the next morning, Wu En arrived to drive Zhou Sen to Haicheng Street, to “Sen” Records, as previously agreed.

As he stepped down from the carriage, Old Sixth greeted him with a somewhat lewd smile. “Boss, a young lady named Anna came by first thing this morning.”

“I know. She’s been assigned to me as an assistant by the Tokko division. That’s all you need to know—don’t pry, and keep your distance,” Zhou Sen warned gravely.

“Understood, Boss.” Old Sixth was cautious; the Tokko meant secrets.

“Where’s Third Ye?”

“He caught a bit of a cold and went to see the doctor after checking in,” Old Sixth replied.

“Out carousing again last night?”

“I’m not sure. You can ask him when he gets back,” Old Sixth said, unwilling to say more.

“He’s your subordinate now; keep him in line. If he causes trouble, it’ll come back on you,” Zhou Sen reminded him.

“Yes, yes, I’ll make sure to keep an eye on him...” Old Sixth promised hastily.

Anna’s facial features had indeed changed somewhat, and her hair was now dyed a tawny yellow, distinctly different from the chestnut brown of “Suzanna.” Moreover, Anna’s temperament was nothing like “Suzanna’s.” The Suzanna Zhou Sen knew was gentle, kind, shy—a bit of a delicate beauty. Anna, however, was sharp and cold.

“Zhou Sen, these are some belongings of Mr. Sherkin that we took from the Songjiang Daily office. I’m handing them over to you now,” Anna said, bringing over a large leather suitcase.

“No wonder the staff at Songjiang Daily reacted so indifferently to Sherkin’s death—they already knew.”

“Not everyone knew, just some of the senior staff,” Anna explained. “That’s why they handled his death quietly.”

“Was it your idea to deal with Sherkin’s belongings at the office?”

“We took some items; if we hadn’t dealt with the rest, you’d have suspected something when you came by,” Anna said.

“No wonder I noticed some missing items among Sherkin’s effects. At the time, I thought they were unrelated to the case and didn’t mention it after the case was closed, though I did note it in my report,” Zhou Sen said.

“I’ve seen it. Your investigative skills are impressive,” Anna nodded in admiration.

“Don’t flatter me. That was just the result of collective brainstorming. If you want to praise my report-writing, I’ll accept that; there aren’t many in the Nangang precinct—or even the police bureau—who write better than I do,” Zhou Sen boasted shamelessly.

“In front of Chief Shibuya and with me, you’re two different people.”

“Heh, that’s normal. People have different sides. You’re the same; under the chief’s authority, who wouldn’t be cautious and tense? A slip of the tongue could have serious consequences,” Zhou Sen chuckled, opening the suitcase in front of Anna.

First to catch his eye was a nearly brand-new Leica camera, German-made, equipped with a telephoto lens—worth several hundred dollars at least. Then came the missing month’s roll of film, a diary, and some personal items: a silver cigarette case, a lighter, a Parker pen, and a wallet...

During evidence collection, Zhou Sen had noted some missing personal items, especially those Sherkin usually carried. Initially, he thought the killer had taken them while cleaning up the scene. Now, it seemed not.

Without touching anything, Zhou Sen closed the suitcase. “You’ve brought these over—is it because...?”

“Yes, the right to dispose of these items is yours now,” Anna nodded.

“Thank you, then I won’t stand on ceremony,” Zhou Sen laughed, closed the case, and carried it into his small bedroom.

“I haven’t prepared an office for you. Aside from my private room, you’re free to do as you please here. Of course, if you don’t want to spend your time here, you’re free to come and go,” Zhou Sen said, emerging again with a friendly introduction.

“You’ve registered the ‘Sen’ Records company. I can serve as your secretary,” Anna said.

“But I don’t have anything for you to handle right now,” Zhou Sen frowned. “Sen” Records was his personal domain—having the Japanese meddle was going too far.

“I just need an identity. I won’t interfere or ask questions about your dealings with Bai Yulan at the Fragrant Pavilion,” Anna replied.

“All right, Miss Anna, you’ll have to put up with it for now,” Zhou Sen considered and nodded; she couldn’t be sent away for the moment.

“Thank you.”

“Miss Anna, am I free to manage my own time now?” Zhou Sen asked. Anna was sent by Saburo Shibuya to keep watch over him.

“As you wish, Zhou Sen. But if you go out, I must accompany you,” Anna said.

“So I have no privacy at all?”

“Don’t worry. If you go home or to the Fragrant Pavilion, I won’t follow,” Anna replied.

“Actually, you don’t need to shadow me all day. I have Wu En for protection—the big guy sweeping outside. He’s a wrestler, quick and agile. Don’t be fooled by your training; you wouldn’t stand a chance against him. If you don’t believe me, challenge him sometime,” Zhou Sen laughed, gesturing toward Wu En outside.

“I might not beat him in a fight, but here,” Anna tapped her forehead, “I’m probably stronger.”

Zhou Sen forced a smile; there was nothing left to say, so he busied himself. The Heart Sutra calligraphy Bai Yulan had given him still needed to be mounted. He also had to mount the “Sen” Records sign he’d written himself. Both were technical tasks.

“Mr. Zhou Sen, you know how to mount calligraphy?” Anna asked, curious.

“I learned as a child,” Zhou Sen replied, not looking up. If he couldn’t explain something, he’d attribute it to before age ten.

Mounting calligraphy and paintings was a family trade for some, learned from an early age. It was common enough, though the skill was easy to pick up but hard to master. Besides mounting, restoration was the real test of skill. Most people learned the basics and experimented, but perfecting the craft to preserve calligraphy for longer wasn’t simple.

“That’s Mr. Bai’s writing?” Anna gasped when she saw Bai Yulan’s name and personal seal in the inscription.

“Miss Anna, you know calligraphy?”

“A little,” Anna nodded. “When I trained in Japan, I studied with a Japanese teacher. His skills weren’t as good as Mr. Bai’s.”

“Miss Anna, are you really related to Mr. Barov?” Zhou Sen nodded slightly, curious.

“I just borrowed the identity. His niece died years ago,” Anna explained.

“Oh, I see.”

“Mr. Zhou Sen, are you interested in my past?”

“I don’t mean to pry, but since we’re in the same boat, a bit of mutual understanding is only right,” Zhou Sen laughed.

“Yes, ask what you like. If I can answer, I won’t hide it. If I can’t, I apologize,” Anna replied, frank.

“Are your parents still alive?”

Anna’s expression changed slightly—clearly the question caught her off guard. After a pause, she answered, “My father joined the Railway Guard and died in the Battle of the Middle East Railway. My mother remarried, taking my younger brother with her. I don’t know where they are now.”

“Why didn’t your mother take you when she remarried?” Zhou Sen wondered. Taking the son but leaving the daughter was odd.

“I didn’t want to go with that man,” Anna said. “Later, I entered an orphanage, then went to Japan.”

Zhou Sen nodded, understanding. Judging by the timeline, Anna’s father died and her mother remarried less than ten years ago. Ten years ago, Anna would have been at least ten—a child old enough to understand, especially a girl who matures faster. Her refusal to leave with her mother was perfectly normal.

“What’s your real name?”

“……”