shadow of britain

Chapter 820 The British Cross the Sea, Each Displaying Their Unique Abilities

A gentle sea breeze blew outside the window. The cruise ship had already passed Gravesend on the coast. The Thames Estuary suddenly opened up here, and the vast blue sea was right in front of us.

Inside the upper-level box, Thomas Plenkitt, the captain of the Ghost Team of the Police Intelligence Bureau, slowly turned around. This overweight and out-of-shape sharpshooter was wearing a loose gray woolen suit. His already thinning hair was even thinner than it had been three years ago, and his shiny head gleamed in the sunlight.

Plunkett first raised his hand to salute Arthur, then awkwardly put down the brandy bottle he was holding in his left hand and explained to Arthur, "Sir, as you know, this is an old problem of mine. If I don't have a couple of puffs before going on a mission, my hand shakes when I raise my gun."

Arthur smiled and waved his hand: "Thomas, I know you, and you know me. Relax, I'm not like Director Rowan, who's all rigid and inflexible. As long as you do your job well, I don't care if you drink during work hours."

Arthur took off his coat and hung it on the coat rack: "Besides, I'm no longer your boss. I'm already incredibly touched that you were willing to accept my invitation and ask Scotland Yard for leave to board the ship."

Upon hearing this, Plunkett saluted again and said, "Sir, the army will not disrespect the Duke of Wellington just because he is no longer Commander-in-Chief, and the same applies to you at Scotland Yard. If any new recruit dares to disrespect you, I will be the first to rush up and smash his head with the butt of my rifle without you even having to give the order."

Although Plunkett neither understood the lengthy parallel sentences of Whitehall civil servants nor the various bizarre metaphors used by Fleet Street reporters, his simple and direct words sounded like heavenly music to Arthur's ears.

Arthur pulled out his cigar case and tossed it into Plunkett's hand: "Thomas, I know you don't like all that beating around the bush, so I'll skip the preamble. Where are your crew members? Boarding was a bit rushed today, so I haven't received the complete roster yet."

“I brought four old buddies from the 95th Regiment, the ‘Green Jackets’: Hamilton, Moore, Biggs, and Wayne,” Plunkett rattled off a string of familiar names. “The four of us boarded the ship as members of the South Shore Veterans Club, a group of old comrades-in-arms attending a memorial gathering by the sea. Scotland Yard, we all took leave; the authorities only knew we were on leave for rest and recuperation, they didn’t ask where we were going, and we didn’t tell them either.”

"Didn't you ask?" Arthur asked with a smile. "Didn't Director Rowan ask either?"

“Rowan is playing dumb. He knows something’s wrong, but he doesn’t want to know why.” Plunkett still harbors resentment over Chief Rowan’s handling of the cold bath incident, and even after the memorial service for Sheriff Robert Culley, his grudge remains unresolved: “You know Rowan, right? Ignorance is the same as no responsibility. He doesn’t want to take any risks.”

Arthur did not agree with Plunkett. Although he knew Plunkett was right, he did not think of Rowan as so despicable.

For someone like Rowan, who is meticulous in his work and places great importance on establishing systems, it is already quite commendable that he can turn a blind eye to his subordinates' petty actions.

It would be asking too much of him to overstep his authority.

Arthur lit a cigar, took a deep drag, and said, "How's things at the bureau lately? I've been away for too long, and there are some things that are hard to find out outside."

"What can we do? They're still the same old guys. The guys parachuted in from the Ministry of Internal Affairs are all better at writing reports than anyone else. They've been promoted pretty quickly, but when it comes to actually getting things done on the streets, we old folks are the ones who have to rely on."

Plunkett paused for a moment, then added, "However, the intelligence agency has been doing quite well lately. Rowan hasn't let those guys from the Department of Internal Affairs interfere with us, and his old colleagues who were transferred out of the police intelligence agency have been transferred back one after another. Oh, by the way, Inspector Fuller in the Fourth Division had a relapse of his old injury at the beginning of the year, so Chief Field arranged for him to retire."

"Who is in charge of the work in those four areas now?"

“Jones, Inspector Braden Jones, your old subordinate from Greenwich and Toulhamletz.” Plunkett was clearly pleased with the choice, and he said with a smile, “Chief Field reported to Commissioner Rowan and got him transferred from the Toulhamletz police district.”

Arthur was also very satisfied with this choice.

After all, Jones was the only guy who never bowed to headquarters during Scotland Yard’s “de-Hastingtonization campaign” over the past few years.

If it weren't for the fact that the Taulhamletz police precinct under Jones's supervision was a real hot potato, he might have been taken down by Rowan long ago.

But now, Arthur and Rowan have not only reconciled, but their relationship has also reached a new level after Sheriff Cali's memorial service.

Therefore, Scotland Yard's suppression of Jones naturally became a thing of the past.

Furthermore, Jones's status at Scotland Yard can no longer be simply described as a thing of the past.

After all, Scotland Yard, as an organization built on the foundation of retired military personnel, naturally admires Jones's "unyielding spirit" and "unshakable character."

Back when Jones was considered a remnant of the Hastings faction who needed to be eliminated, the officers couldn't openly express their admiration for him.

But nowadays, people obviously don't need to worry about so much.

As one of Arthur's old subordinates, the newly appointed acting superintendent of the Police Intelligence Bureau, Charles Field, naturally needed to demonstrate to the officers of the Police Intelligence Bureau his "legitimacy" as the successor to Sir Arthur Hastings and the head of the Hastings faction at Scotland Yard through personnel appointments.

Therefore, it was a reasonable option for him to transfer Inspector Braden Jones, who had strong ties to Hastings, to the Police Intelligence Bureau and give him important responsibilities.

As for why Rowan would tacitly allow Arthur's underlings to openly band together under his nose, it was naturally because he felt pressure from the Ministry of Internal Affairs.

To put it bluntly, he was very unhappy with the Home Office's arbitrary placement of personnel in Scotland Yard, but he was helpless against the arrangements made by his superiors.

So, since he couldn't stop the Ministry of the Interior from sending people into the bureau, he might as well revive the small group that Arthur had organized back then as a buffer zone.

If, in the future, the parachuted personnel from the Home Office disagree with Scotland Yard and a conflict arises, it will inevitably start with the Police Intelligence Service, since it is the most unruly, unscrupulous, and audacious group among all the departments of Scotland Yard.

When that time comes, Rowan will jump out again to act as a peacemaker, pretending to be fair and impartial, and punishing both sides equally.

Of course, given Rowan's relationship with Arthur, his punishment of the Police Intelligence Bureau might not be so harsh; at most, he'd give them a lenient approach. But it's foreseeable that Rowan's punishment of the personnel parachuted into the Ministry of the Interior wouldn't be so gentle.

Both were demoted, but some were promoted back to their original positions, while others continued their downward spiral.

Both parties are subject to internal investigations, but some employees continue to receive their salaries while others are suspended without pay.

When it comes to the ability to scheme against people, Rowan, this retired army officer, might not be much less skilled than the Whitehall bureaucrats. He hadn't done this before simply because he didn't want to openly confront the Interior Ministry. But if pushed too far, even if he couldn't confront them openly, he had plenty of ways to sabotage the Interior Ministry behind the scenes.

After all, Rowan had long since given up on further promotions and only wanted to take care of Scotland Yard.

It would be quite difficult for the Ministry of the Interior to control such a seemingly unambitious individual.

Even if they drastically dismiss Rowan, the newly appointed minister might not be able to command the Scotland Yard officers. And the new minister who can command the Scotland Yard officers is highly likely to be even more difficult to deal with than Rowan.

Plunkett poured Arthur a glass of wine and continued, "And then there's the Sixth Division. They've been getting quite close to the Foreign Office lately, acting all mysterious these past few months. I don't know what they're up to. I heard they're forming a new team, full of gentlemen who can speak more than three languages, and they've stipulated that handsome men get priority."

"Ministry of Foreign Affairs?" Arthur asked casually. "Who's in charge of this?"

“I don’t know.” Plunkett recalled, “But the guy at the Foreign Office who was in charge of liaising with Section Six was named… named… Hught, yes, Mr. Richard Hught.”

“Hugh?” As soon as Arthur heard the name, he roughly understood: “If he was sent here, it must have been Mr. August Schneider, the Assistant Under-Secretary of State at the Foreign Office, who probably took the lead. It’s probably because there are more and more foreigners staying in London in recent years, and the Foreign Office is too busy to handle everything, so they plan to ask the Sixth Division to help share some of the work.”

Arthur had barely finished speaking when he suddenly heard a soft yet high-pitched female voice coming from outside the window. The last syllable of her voice trailed off, tinged with a hint of playful reproach: "Your mouth is clearly meant for writing love poems, yet you always use me as practice. Just now you said that even the sunlight would be ashamed of its own smile when I laugh. Sigh, Dee, you..."

“I told you, Henrietta, when you appear, even the sun has to put on a veil to avoid you, for fear that the sunlight shining on your face will make it look rough.”

Inside the cabin, Plenkitt frowned as he listened, taking a swig of brandy. "In broad daylight, these young people these days... they're shameless. If a man truly loves a woman, he should say less sweet talk and do more practical things. Look at them, all just pretty faces, all talk and no action. They talk a good game, but when it comes to actually doing something, they're nowhere to be found."

Arthur remained noncommittal about Plunkett's comments. He simply walked to the window, peeked out, and then calmly remarked, "What a coincidence."

Although he didn't invite Disraeli on this trip, that didn't stop him and Mrs. Sykes from their plan to vacation on the southeastern beach.

To be honest, Arthur had thought since last year that Disraeli's relationship was probably going to end soon, because ever since Lady Sykes' husband, Sir Francis Sykes, went to Venice to recuperate, Disraeli and Lady Sykes had been inseparable almost every day.

Based on Arthur's understanding of human beings, such intense and affectionate feelings usually come and go quickly. Once the novelty wears off, both parties will go to seek new excitement.

But now Arthur has to admit that Disraeli's fondness for older women has probably overwhelmed a part of human nature, while Mrs. Sykes is addicted to having affairs behind her husband's back.

Therefore, as of now, their relationship seems to remain stable.

However, Arthur didn't bother with Disraeli's affairs.

He had just turned around to continue his conversation with Plunkett when he suddenly heard a familiar voice coming from outside the window again.

"Benjamin? What are you doing here? And what's this next to you... ah..."

Upon hearing the slightly surprised exclamation, Arthur almost instantly realized who had interrupted Disraeli and Mrs. Sykes's tryst.

He calmly closed the window, turned around, and went back to his seat.

Seeing his ambiguous smile, Plunkett couldn't help but ask, "Do you know that couple outside the window?"

“I’d rather I didn’t know him,” Arthur said calmly. “Thomas, like Director Rowan, I don’t want to take responsibility for this.”

Plunkett smiled strangely: "Then you've been a pretty reliable friend."

Boom boom boom!
Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

Then, with a creak, the door was gently pushed open, revealing the face of a police officer: "Um... Sir, Mr. Elder Carter wants to see you."

Arthur shrugged. "Just tell him I know what he wants to say and that he should wait for me at the restaurant."

Unexpectedly, before Arthur could finish speaking, Elder squeezed in through the crack in the door.

"Arthur!" The newcomer was Elder, who practically roared, "Do you know what I just saw on deck?"

"dolphin?"

"I saw Benjamin kissing a woman!" Elder slammed his fist on the doorframe. "In full view of everyone, in the sunlight, right in front of me! Do you know who she is?"

“I don’t know, but I do know that if you’re any louder, Benjamin and the woman he’s kissing will hear you soon.”

Upon hearing this, Elder realized that he seemed to have lost his gentlemanly manners: "Uh... I... I didn't mean that. Oh well, I'm not a pastor. Charles is the pastor."

Before Elder could finish speaking, a series of hurried footsteps sounded outside the door.

Before anyone could react, the door was pushed open with a bang.

“Eld, Mr. Carter! You stop right there…” Disraeli pushed the door open and entered: “I think we might need to have a proper talk… Uh… Arthur, what are you doing here?”

(I haven't been feeling well these past couple of days. I'll take a break and see if I can post another update tonight, but I can't guarantee it. Please check back tomorrow morning.)
(End of this chapter)