My spy diary

Chapter 570 Singing for You (Seeking Monthly Tickets)

The Luoyang Railway Station was bustling with people in the afternoon, with a long queue in front of the ticket windows.

Passengers, carrying large and small bags of luggage, were swept along by the crowd, stumbling and moving forward.

With a major battle imminent, many people wanted to escape Luoyang, but tickets were extremely difficult to obtain.

At the front of the line was a young couple, exhausted and sweating profusely from the crowd.

The man wiped the sweat from his brow with his arm, glanced back at his wife who was holding the child with concern, and reassured her, "Just hang in there a little longer, we'll be in the car soon."

As he spoke, he pulled a folded handkerchief from his pocket and handed several crumpled banknotes into the ticket window:
"It's troublesome, two train tickets to the mountain city."

"There are no tickets left. Come back tomorrow."

When will tickets be available tomorrow?

"Wait for notification."

Around when?

"I said wait for notification, next!" The ticket seller, a stylishly dressed woman with permed hair, looked impatient and threw the man's money away.

The man frowned deeply, looking at his wife's somber expression, and sighed silently.
"Let's go and come back tomorrow."

Before the two could leave, a burly man shoved them aside and slapped several crisp banknotes on the window: "Three for the mountain city, first class only."

"Don't even mention first class, there aren't any second class seats either." The woman with the perm rolled her eyes, took out a "Ticket Sales Temporarily Suspended" sign, slammed it against the window, closed the window, and started knitting.

The man's fleshy face twitched, and he angrily flung open the window, shouting:

"Why are there no tickets again? They said there were no tickets yesterday, and there are still no tickets today. How come everyone else has tickets, but I'm the only one without?"

Upon hearing this, the other passengers also stirred up a commotion, shouting, "That's right, the station is where you sell tickets. What are you doing without tickets?"

Seeing the group arguing more and more fiercely, a man wearing a train conductor's armband came out from the small door next door and said:

"Listen up, everyone. Due to wartime traffic control, trains are in short supply. You're anxious, and so are we. Don't worry, we've already reported to our superiors, and they're urgently allocating freight cars. They should arrive tomorrow. Please wait a little longer—"

"Wait, wait until when? Will the Japanese invade the city?" Another sigh and complaint came from the crowd.

"We don't have tickets, so why do they?" The burly man at the front of the line was furious. He grabbed the train conductor by the collar and turned his anger toward the VIP lounge next door.

The doors to the VIP lounge next door were slightly closed. Well-dressed gentlemen and ladies stepped out of rickshaws or cars, and came in and out, surrounded by servants carrying expensive suitcases of various sizes. They were polite and smiling.

This scene made everyone grit their teeth.

"Why do they get tickets? We don't?"

"We've been queuing since last night, why haven't they let us buy tickets yet?"

"It must be someone from the station causing trouble!"

"I'm afraid it's not that there aren't enough tickets, but rather that they're all being sold at inflated prices to wealthy people and those with connections—it's a backdoor deal!"

As the questions grew louder, a large number of enraged passengers, led by the burly man, began to storm the ticket window. With a crash, the window glass shattered. Seeing that the situation was about to spiral out of control, the train attendant's eyes turned red, and he blew the whistle hanging around his neck with all his might.

As the whistle blew, several patrol officers carrying batons rushed in and immediately attacked the ringleaders, creating chaos and a scene of carnage.

The burly man with a fierce face gripped a police baton and shouted at the patrol officer:
"You think you're so great just because you dare hit me while I'm wearing black skin? Go ahead and kill me if you dare!"

The patrolman was no pushover either. He drew his pistol from his waist, glared at her, and said, "Get lost. If you cause any more trouble, I'll shoot you."

The man shrank back, glaring back but daring not to speak again. Seeing this, the troublemakers instinctively backed away.

The patrol officer sneered, "During wartime traffic control, tickets are definitely not a problem! Anyone who dares to cause trouble and attempt to disrupt station order will be arrested!"

Just then, the side door of the ticket office opened a crack, and two men sneaked out furtively.

Someone in the crowd pointed at them and shouted, "Look, there are scalpers out again! The station is colluding with them. How many tickets are actually left for us ordinary folks? They're selling our tickets at exorbitant prices."

These words reignited the anger of the people who had just quieted down, and they shouted as they rushed toward the side door: "Break down the door! We have to get our tickets today!"

Seeing the situation was not good, the two scalpers shrank back in fear and closed the door tightly. However, as the angry crowd continued to ram the door, it swayed and soon collapsed with a loud bang.

Just as the door was broken down, a loud "bang" rang out, and the patrolman raised his hand and shot the burly man dead, then kicked him to the ground. Screams erupted from the crowd, and it took them a long time to recover from their shock and fall silent.

The patrolman, his face ashen, pointed his gun at the trembling, huddled people: "Anyone who dares to cause trouble again, shoot them all! Arrest them!"

No sooner had he finished speaking than a large number of police officers rushed in, brandishing batons, striking and slapping, eliciting cries of pain.

After arresting the ringleaders, the police chief was about to leave when two men in trench coats and top hats walked in without looking at him.

"what for?"

Upon hearing this, the two stopped in their tracks, and one of them showed his identification.

The patrol leader took the badge, glanced at it, saluted the two men, and said, "Sir."

The "officer" didn't speak, took back his identification, walked to the ticket window, and slapped the identification in front of the still-shaken female ticket seller:
"Three train tickets to the mountain city, first class seats, for the next available train."

After the two people got their tickets and left, a thin man stood up in the corner of the ticket office. He looked around for a while, glanced at the two people's departing figures, looked up at the departure timetable, and then turned and walked out.

After watching the two get into a black car, the man shrank back and walked thoughtfully to the other side.

A black sedan was parked on the other side of the road. The thin man walked to the car, looked around warily, opened the door, sat in the driver's seat, and said to himself:

"There's only one train to the mountain city, at 8 PM."

Sitting in the passenger seat was Osawa Kanjiro, who glanced at his watch with a gloomy face.
"A few more hours. What about the rest?"

"The exterior is relaxed but the interior is tense, with strict security. In addition to the patrol police, there are also plainclothes agents from the Military Intelligence Bureau, making it difficult to take action."

Kanjiro Osawa remained silent, pondering the matter carefully.

"Colonel, shall we just wait for them here?" the skinny man asked.

Kanjiro Osawa glanced at him sideways, then looked at the passengers passing by in twos and threes outside the car window and said, "Scared?"

"Don't worry. But security at the train station has been completely upgraded. How can we get in without a ticket?"

"Go in now."

"Now?"

"Even the wisest person can make a mistake." Osawa Kanjiro smiled mysteriously, then pointed out the window and said, "Look at the nine o'clock direction."

The skinny man and the two people sitting in the back seat looked over and saw several men in green uniforms carrying packages.

"Postman?"

“That’s right. I’ve observed carefully that these postmen’s tricycles can enter the train station through the dedicated mail and goods delivery lane without needing any identification. In their spare time, they all go to the hotel around the corner to rest. This is a loophole, and also our opportunity. We can disguise ourselves as postmen and sneak in, lying in ambush on the platform. When Zhang Yi walks into the trap, we’ll unleash a hail of bullets, catching him completely off guard.” Osawa Kanjiro smiled smugly and waved his hand, saying:
"Go on, and hurry up!"

"Yes."

The skinny man pulled a pistol from under his seat, tucked it into his pocket, thought for a moment, then pulled out a dagger and tucked it into his sleeve. He grabbed a package, got off the bus, and hunched over as he walked towards the nearby inn. Inside the inn, the innkeeper was doing accounts at the counter. Seeing someone enter, he quickly ran over to greet him.
"Sir, are you looking for a room?"

"Do you have a room?" The skinny man walked over and looked around.

"There's a lot of chaos and not many people around, so you can choose whatever you like."

"Being so close to the water tower, you can't open a hotel right next to the train station without connections. It's a good business," the skinny man laughed, looking up at the stairs to the second floor. "Are there any people here? Are there many people? Let's not be too noisy."

The shopkeeper smiled ingratiatingly: "We only earn our meager profits from your business. You're the only other tenant besides us; it's a long-term lease, and all the residents are long-term. Don't worry, it'll be quiet."

"That's good. I'm a light sleeper, and I wake up easily at the slightest noise. Do you have a nicer room?" The skinny man's eyes flashed. If he wasn't mistaken, the person he was looking for was staying in the long room.

He watched as the shopkeeper pulled a bunch of keys from his belt and added:
"Long-term leases must have gotten the best rooms, right?"

The shopkeeper laughed and said, "It's not that bad. When they go upstairs, the left side is the best, and when you go upstairs, the right side is the best. They're all the best we have here."

As he spoke, he picked out a key and was about to step out from behind the counter to show the skinny man the apartment when the skinny man reached out and stopped him.
"Can I go up and take a look myself first? Sorry."

The shopkeeper glanced at him, hesitated for a moment, and then handed over the key:

"Okay, you go take a look first, and pay me when you've chosen something you like."

Then it occurred to him: "Did you bring your identification? Recently, the police have been coming to our door from time to time to catch Japanese spies. You can't do it without identification."

"I brought it, don't worry, we're law-abiding citizens." The skinny man smiled politely, but his right hand was still in his pocket.

Then, he climbed the creaking wooden stairs step by step. He quietly crossed the corridor and stood in front of the postman's rest room on the left side of the stairs, finally pulling his right hand, which was holding a dagger, out of his pocket.

He looked around, gently grasped the doorknob, and pushed it inward, but the door didn't open; it seemed to be closed from the inside.

The skinny man reached out and knocked on the door, lowering his voice to say, "Hey bro, water delivery guy. Hey bro?"

With a loud bang, the sound of a wine bottle echoed from inside the door, followed by footsteps. A person muttered to themselves in confusion:
"Didn't they deliver hot water?"

Inside the room, the peanuts and braised pork head on the small table had been eaten quite a bit, and there were several bottles of liquor next to it. One person was sitting on a small stool drinking, while two other people were fast asleep on the bed behind him.

The man picked up a piece of peanut, his eyes still glazed with drunkenness, and said, "Let's go take a look."

The man muttered to himself, "What a spoilsport."

He opened the door dejectedly, and as soon as he peeked out, a dagger was plunged into his neck.

The skinny man covered the man's mouth while pressing down hard on the dagger, pushing the man inside.

The man drinking inside trembled upon seeing this scene, cried out and tried to stand up, but stumbled and fell to the ground.

The skinny man sneered, drew his dagger, took a step forward, and snapped the man's neck.

After doing all that, he turned around and closed the door. He then went over and dealt with the other two men, pulled off their clothes, sat down on the stool without changing his expression, and grabbed the remaining pig's head meat to eat voraciously.

A few minutes later, he packed the clothes he had taken into a bundle and walked away calmly.

The shopkeeper was still calculating the accounts when he heard the noise and asked enthusiastically:

"How is it? Are you satisfied?"

The skinny man, expressionless, tossed the keys onto the table, said nothing, and strode away.

The shopkeeper looked sullen, staring intently at his retreating figure for a long time before finally snapping out of it:

"Neuropathy!"

The bustling train station saw people gradually disperse in front of the platform.

A long queue stretched out in front of the platform, a vast, dark mass of people.

A moment later, a clear announcement came over the loudspeaker at the train station: "Attention passengers, the train bound for the mountain city is about to arrive at the station."

Two young men in postman uniforms mingled in the crowd, looking around warily.

Not long after, a piercing whistle sounded from afar, growing louder as the train approached the station.

The two young men's expressions turned serious. Where was Zhang Yiren?
Why hasn't he shown up yet?

Could it be that he wasn't on this train?

Just as the two were lost in thought, a group of agents strode into the platform.

Then, the two men were startled; their target had finally appeared.

Zhang Yi, dressed in a black trench coat and sunglasses, carrying a black briefcase, walked in surrounded by Li Mulin and a group of officials from the Henan Railway Station.

Kanjiro Osawa stood behind the cold pillar, his eyes also locked on his target. He gritted his teeth and shouted, "Zhang Yi!"

As soon as Osawa Kanjiro shouted, Zhang Yi turned around and fired a shot.

This shot was unexpected by Osawa Kanjiro, who could only hide behind a pillar, firing his gun while directing his men to flank Zhang Yi.

At the same time, two young men who had been mingling in the crowd also rushed out.

However, just as the two men drew their pistols, gunshots rang out behind them, and both men were hit and fell to the ground.

The monkey and Qian Xiaosan emerged from the darkness, sneering repeatedly.

"We've been waiting for you."

The gunshot startled all the passengers on the platform, who scattered and ran for their lives.

While ordering his men to form a crossfire to encircle and annihilate the remaining enemies, Li Mulin confronted Monkey and Qian Xiaosan:
"Director Zhang's predictions were spot on; there really was an ambush. By the way, where is Director Zhang?"

"Director Zhang" was tidying up his briefcase amidst the mess, several bullet holes clearly visible in it.

But the real Zhang Yi silently emerged from the darkness, approaching Osawa Kanjiro and the skinny man hiding behind the pillar, raising his pistol and firing several shots at them.

Osawa Kanjiro collapsed, convulsing, glaring at Zhang Yi with hatred: "So it was a case of substitution."

"You realize it too late." Zhang Yi said expressionlessly, then aimed at the man's head and fired two more shots.

At that moment, a roar sounded, and the train pulled into the station.

Zhang Yi holstered his pistol, put his hands in his pockets, and walked lightly onto the platform. Behind him lay the blood-soaked corpse of Osawa Kanji.

A long whistle pierced the sky. Zhang Yi took one last look at Luoyang, picked up his suitcase, and boarded the train bound for the mountain city.

There weren't many people in the carriage. He sat by the window and took out a copy of "For Whom the Bell Tolls" from his suitcase.

There was a bookmark in the book, and on this page it read:

We are all interconnected; the misfortune of others is your misfortune. So never ask for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

(PS: Sorry, I've been sick for a few days. I have a lot of ailments: neck pain, back pain, and tenosynovitis.)

(End of this chapter)