Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

Old Tan still maintained the posture of holding the telescope, motionless.

Suddenly!

Without warning, Old Tan turned around at breakneck speed! His bony right hand, holding the cigarette butt, was like the kiss of a venomous snake suddenly rising from the darkness!

Kuaidao didn't even see the trajectory of Old Tan's arm, he just felt a huge force strangling his neck!

The force was so great that the man staggered back two steps and his back hit the cold and rough brick wall heavily!

Zhao Bingkun's eyes went dark and he felt suffocated.

He widened his eyes in shock and looked in disbelief at Tan Yonglin, whose anger had almost condensed into substance.

He could even see the thick, bulging blue vein on Old Tan's temple throbbing hideously in the shadow.

"Idiot! You're asking for your own death! I only asked you to find out what the Japanese military police were doing in the French Concession. I didn't ask you to think of anything else!"

Old Tan's body leaned forward slightly, and a low and fierce roar, almost like that of a wild beast, rolled in his throat. Every word was like ice chips rolling and rubbing in the blood, carrying a murderous aura that chilled one's bones.

"Also! Who told you to come here to see me without permission? The Military Control Commission has its own rules!

I'm now a patrol officer in the French Concession! Remember this identity!

As my personal courier!

From now on, if you dare to appear in front of me and give me orders again without a top-secret emergency code,

I'll take care of you first!"

The blood color on Kuaidao's face faded away completely in an instant, and he became paler than the gray skin that had just fallen off the wall.

The immense fear finally overwhelmed his enthusiasm. He nodded with difficulty, not because he was afraid of death, but because his eyes went from excitement to dull fear.

The jazz melody faintly drifting from the dance floor was still melodious, carrying a kind of frivolousness that was ignorant of the hatred of the country's demise.

Old Tan's chest, which had been heaving violently, finally calmed down a little.

He stopped looking at Kuaidao who was lying limp in the corner and turned his gaze back to the door of Santa Anna.

Zhou Zhengqing and his group disappeared into the open, golden door of the dance floor like the king of darkness surrounded by stars.

Just as his gaze fell on the glittering door of the dance floor, the corner of his eye suddenly caught a glimpse of movement behind the window on the third floor.

An extremely hazy white figure flashed by.

Although it was extremely fast, even blurry, the instinct that Lao Tan had forged after lurking in the French Concession for decades, on the brink of life and death, was like a needle piercing his skin!

He raised his eyebrows fiercely!

At the same moment when Old Tan suddenly became alert because of the hazy white shadow in the dance hall, the scene in the Santa Anna dance hall was completely different.

The moment the heavy soundproof door closed, the tense, stench of gunpowder, and vulgar noise of the world outside were suddenly cut off, as if stepping into two completely different universes.

Outside the door is a reality as cold as the abyss, but inside the door is a dazzling and hazy fantasy world.

More than a hundred crystal pendant chandeliers custom-made in Austria are densely stacked under the nearly ten-meter-high dome, interweaving into a canopy woven purely of light.

The crystal cut surface rotates and refracts, reflecting the champagne in the crystal glass into a flowing golden river, infinitely magnifying the cold light of the gemstone on the woman's bare shoulders and chest.

Under your feet, the black and white marble floor is polished to be as smooth as a mirror, shining brightly and clearly reflecting the even more brilliant and magnificent torrent of light from the ceiling.

The air was filled with the cold aroma of high-end French champagne and the rich and mellow smoke of Dutch cigars.

The upper-class woman has a collection of top-notch perfume molecules such as rose, tuberose and musk.

There are also fresh flowers from distant tropical areas, such as flamingo, bird of paradise, and phalaenopsis, which exude a rich and sweet scent.

Various luxurious flavors are mixed and blended to form a dizzying, addictive, unreal, and sweet and gentle land of wealth and tenderness.

Zhou Zhengqing walked across the soft, cloud-like pure wool woven carpet and headed towards the gilded, carved viewing platform on the second floor of the dance floor, overlooking the core area of the entire dance floor.

"Your Excellency General, your presence is the greatest honor to us at Santa Ana!

We just had a batch of champagne from Paris arrive in Tianjin, perfectly chilled.”

The manager of the Santa Ana Ballroom carefully brought out a poured crystal glass filled with top-quality champagne emitting pearl-like bubbles.

"I have specially invited our most precious treasure, Miss Yao, the goddess of flowers, to perform a dance for the general! If you are interested, you can watch it anytime!"

Zhou Zhengqing didn't take the cup, but glanced coldly at the bustling and glittering dance floor downstairs.

The men were dressed in neat suits or long gowns, with slicked-back hair and powdered faces, and the gold watches on their wrists reflected dazzling light. The women were like carefully dressed dolls, with their waists wrapped in silk sequins swaying gently to the music.

. . . . . . . . .

On the third floor of the Santa Ana Ballroom, in a private cigar room wrapped heavily in dark mahogany and velvet, the air was as stagnant as lead.

This place is far away from the hustle and bustle of the first floor. The heavy oak door is inlaid with exquisite sound-proof copper strips, blocking most of the music. Only the lowest cello scale occasionally penetrates, like the muffled thunder rolling over a distant battlefield.

The ceiling was low, and only a green table lamp covered with a frosted glass lampshade emitted a faint light. The light was deliberately dimmed, and under the blue smoke of the cigar and the dark wood grain on the wall, it only barely illuminated the core area of ​​the huge mahogany round table.

This faint halo is like an isolated island in the dark tide, holding up several faces that dominate the fate of Tianjin, or at least the lifeline of the deformed prosperity of the French Concession at this moment.

Zhou Zhengqing sat in the main seat, sinking deeply into the high-back armchair covered with thick goose down cushions.

He had already taken off his neat Japanese Army Major General's formal dress uniform and hung it casually on the back of the chair, revealing his exquisitely textured and meticulously tailored navy blue dark-patterned vest and pure white poplin shirt.

The gold collar lining at the collar sparkles with the unique cold luster of metal.

In the deliberately dim light, the lines of his young face blurred some details, and his eyes reflected the faint green light from the edge of the lampshade. He calmly penetrated the smoke and saw the faces of everyone present.

The British Consul General in Tianjin, Sir Webster, had a half-inch-long pile of Havana cigar ash between his fingers, about to fall.

Renoir, the French Consulate General's Minister, felt his fingers stiffen as he wiped his monocle.

The Italian Consul, Lionel, rolled his eyes rapidly and tapped his nails unconsciously on the wall of the crystal glass containing half a glass of brandy, making a very subtle but nerve-wracking "tap, tap" sound.

Sitting in the corner was Ruth, the business representative of the Dutch consulate, and a Belgian who was trying to reduce his presence with his eyes wandering.