Durin's Diary

Chapter 718 Side
Fisher Gregory stood in front of his men.

Recently, the agents of the Military Intelligence Bureau suffered a loss in Milan. As to why they suffered the loss, it was because of the infighting among their peers. The young Northernists trained by Dulin and the Military Intelligence Bureau agents he trained also greeted each other on the secret front.

Fortunately, it was a tacit agreement between the two sides to set up safe houses in each other's cities, and all the people who were found were released. However, things like this ultimately made the Military Intelligence Bureau lose face - what's wrong with fighting each other? They were all trained by Lord Du Lin. If they are not as skilled as the other, then they are not as skilled as the other. Even if they report it to Lord Du Lin, they will still lose.

How can you talk about it in front of adults after losing?

So, this old fish shook his head, looked at the young men kneeling on one knee and said, "Tell me, how did you reveal your true identity?"

"I'm a hairdresser. I'm late for work, yet I seem to have endless money. So, I'm exposed." The first young man said helplessly, "Can't I just inherit some of my relatives' money?"

"Inheriting relatives' inheritance is the most common method used in necromancy. If I were you, I would definitely not say that. If you are caught by your junior brother, the worst that can happen is embarrassment. But if you are caught by a suspicious bishop, what they are best at is to force you to drink five pounds of holy water before questioning you." Fisher scolded with a bad smile.

Mr. Poole, beside him, laughed.

"It's you, old Willy. Tell me how you were discovered." Fisher looked at the second member of the CIA.

The gray-haired middle-aged man looked helpless. "I'm sorry to have embarrassed His Excellency and His Highness Poole. I was pretending to be poor and hadn't revealed my true identity until the young man across the street distributed rice, flour, and oil. That day was the agreed meeting time, and I thought I'd be alright if I missed one day, but I didn't expect that young man would keep an eye on me after I missed just one."

"What does it mean to make rice, flour and oil?" Poole was a little curious.

"After that young man came to Milan, he began to distribute wheat flour, oil and vegetables to the poor in the neighborhood he was in charge of. It is said that this was an idea thought up by His Highness Turin. I heard that this method is called rice, flour and oil there. I didn't go to collect it that day. Afterwards, when the people who received it were counted, I was pulled out and told that I didn't look like a real poor person, because real poor people would not easily give up these subsidies." The middle-aged man who was also kneeling on one knee answered with a bitter face.

"From the small details, we can see the big picture. They are all good students taught by Lord Durin and you. This time it is like the left hand hitting the right hand." Fisher said seriously.

"It's really not your fault. The agreed rendezvous time really can't be cancelled so easily. Mr. Fisher, your Military Intelligence Bureau should have a good discussion on this matter and see if you can come up with a new rule. In the future, when encountering situations like this, members like Old Willy shouldn't be bound by scheduled rendezvous times. This time, it was our junior who gave the lie, and we can still get him back. If it happens somewhere else next time, he'll be sacrificed. We can't let our people sacrifice so meaninglessly."

"Yes, Lord Poole, please rest assured." Fisher said, looking at the last young man who was kneeling on one knee: "Tell me about your situation."

"I said I was a herbalist, and I had cured illnesses and saved lives, but that guy insisted that I was too young to be a herbalist, and he assigned three groups of people to follow me!" The young agent said this with a look of grievance on his face.

Poole smiled helplessly: "It's not your fault. There really aren't many young herbalists in Farol. There was a problem when the Military Intelligence Agency designed your character. But next time you meet me, remember to check if you've been targeted." Having said that, Poole raised his hand to signal the three agents to get up and leave.

When they were out, Poole looked at Fisher and said, "I'm so sorry, Mr. Fisher, my brother and I have caused you so much trouble."

"That's not true. The young people you and Master Du Lin teach are all excellent. In fact, it's a good thing this way. Competition leads to mutual progress. Although we young people and the young people of Northernism are two different schools of thought, they are all good students you have taught. Losing to a fellow disciple is not shameful. We are all teachers."

Just as he was saying this, a prairie elf boy ran in: "Something happened!" "What happened?" Poole was a little curious - these were young people recruited from Lublin, who were usually responsible for intelligence collection and investigation and classification of incidents. Unless it was an important matter, they would not appear in front of him.

"Director Stuluwe, a former military orphan, claims to have caught a big fish in Vienna. He just led his team out." The young man had barely finished speaking when another person, also a grassland elf, rushed over. He ran over quickly, "Brother Poole, Director Stuluwe has word. They say they've captured Farol's Northernism's largest printing plant and shipping station in Vienna."

"Good boy." Poole slapped his forehead - he had also heard of this printing factory and delivery station, and had always wanted to find their location, but had never been able to find it. After all, they were under the charge of the Northern Bureau, and Poole was not a member of the Northern Bureau, so he could not speak up in this situation.

I didn't expect that Stuluwei could find it this time.

Could it be that this junior brother wants to save face for his senior brothers?

………………

Struve was sitting in the lobby of the printing factory. A dozen young workers were squatting not far away with their heads in their hands. The MI6 agents were standing around with guns in their hands, bored, sharing cigarettes or drinking beer they had found in the factory.

A young man was squatting in front of Stuluwei, smiling awkwardly: "Give me a cigarette, brother." He said with a shameless face.

"How dare you ask for cigarettes? Let me ask you, do you still remember the most important confidentiality regulations of the printing factory?" Struve asked back, while still tightly holding the silver cigarette case in his hand.

"But this factory has been operating downtown for seventeen years and has never been discovered before."

"The past is the past, and the present is the present. In the past, I treated you as my brothers, and I turned a blind eye to your daily use of trucks to transport ink. But recently, several of my brothers from the orphanage have been killed in Milan, and some have even been beaten, so I have to stand up and redeem their reputation."

"Hey, I knew it was that hippie who did this. He really likes to show off and has lost face and dignity for your fellow students. But I'm Brother Poole's student, and I have no grudge against you." The young man smiled awkwardly.

"It's true that we have no grudge against each other, but you can't ask me for cigarettes with a frivolous smile. If I share some cigarettes with you, what about the senior brother behind you?" After saying that, Stuluwei looked at the people squatting behind him.

"That's right, this guy is so shameless. Xiao Wei, you should just hang him at the door." One of the squatting young men said so.

"That won't work. Although many of our brothers have died, no one has ever hung them at the door, so I can't say that." As soon as he finished speaking, Stuluwei stood up.

The young man turned his head and saw Poole walking into the compound.

He tried to stand up, but Stuluve kicked him in the knee, so he knelt down again.

(End of this chapter)