Chapter 123: Britannia Coffee and Tea House

Hearing Cheng Qianfan instruct him to bring a weapon,

Haozai nodded, reached under the bed, and pulled out a cloth bundle. Opening it revealed a Mauser C96 pistol. He also took out a spare magazine and slipped it into his pocket.

Cheng Qianfan glanced at it. The advantage of the Mauser pistol was that it was a very common firearm. Identifying a person through the weapon alone was almost impossible, and it also possessed relatively strong firepower.

Its drawback was that the gun was large and bulky, making it difficult to conceal on one’s person.

In fact, the firearm most suitable for agents was a compact revolver, though such weapons were relatively difficult to obtain.

However, in Shanghai, as long as you wanted something and had the money, anything could be acquired on the black market.

Britain and the countries of the Commonwealth widely equipped their forces with the Webley .455 revolver and the Webley .38 revolver.

The British military was very dissatisfied with the range of these two firearms. Among the British there circulated a saying:

“If you can hit a target at fifty yards with the damned Webley revolver, I guarantee you can hit a target at eight hundred yards with a Lee-Enfield.”

In Cheng Qianfan’s view, the British were simply being fussy.

Of course, Britain was still the world’s foremost power at present, and its military-industrial complex was formidable. They certainly had the capital to be fussy.

He planned to find a way to acquire several Webley revolvers from the black market in the International Settlement in the future.

The Indian constables in the British and American settlements were rather peculiar. They would declare their revolvers “scrapped” for various reasons, after which those practically brand-new revolvers would quickly find their way onto the black market.

French Concession, Joffre District, No. 34 Avenue Joffre.

This was an attractive Western-style building facing the street.

The proprietor had an interesting idea. The establishment was divided into two halves, one side operating as a café and the other as a tea house.

The brass signboard read:

Britannia Coffee and Tea.

The concept was obvious from the sign alone.

It catered both to the petty bourgeoisie pursuing a Western lifestyle and to Chinese patrons who preferred traditional tea houses.

On the afternoon of the very day he left Hangzhou, after obtaining Yu Ping’an’s permission, he had once again “interrogated” Eguchi Hideya.

Eguchi Hideya had mentioned a detail.

Before being sent to Hangzhou on his mission, the Inoue Residence had arranged for him to apply for work at this tea house as a waiter so he could learn how to serve as a waiter in a modern-style tea house.

In fact, Hengrun Teahouse in Hangzhou also advertised itself as a modern-style tea house.

Its purpose was to attract officials and officials’ wives who admired Western lifestyles.

Cheng Qianfan pondered secretly and concluded there were two possibilities.

The Britannia Tea House might have no connection whatsoever to Japanese agents, and Eguchi Hideya had merely come here to learn the trade.

However, this possibility was extremely low.

The most likely explanation was that Japanese interests lurked behind this modern-style tea house that advertised itself as British in character.

Before leaving Hangzhou, Yu Ping’an had already assigned the task of investigating this Shanghai tea house to Cheng Qianfan’s undercover group.

This could be considered the first genuine mission accepted by Cheng Qianfan’s team.

“Well?” Cheng Qianfan asked.

He was testing Haozai.

He had cautiously led Haozai around the tea house for a full circuit.

“Something’s not right,” Haozai said.

“Tell me.”

“There are two extra side doors.”

Cheng Qianfan nodded.

Haozai truly was clever and observant.

Generally speaking, a standard layout required only a front entrance and a rear entrance.

Yet this Britannia Coffee and Tea House had opened two additional side doors on the back street.

They were small and somewhat concealed. Without careful observation, most people would never notice them.

After exiting one of the side doors and turning left, one would enter a narrow alley.

Passing through that alley led directly to a small river.

Of course, it remained possible that the owner simply had eccentric tastes.

But to an intelligence operative, such a layout was highly suggestive.

The greatest advantage of such a design was simple:

Convenient escape.

“Withdraw!”

From a distance, Cheng Qianfan spotted a patrol of constables approaching.

He quietly spoke to Haozai.

The two slipped into a narrow alley and quickly vanished into the night.

Cheng Qianfan brought Haozai back to the safe house.

“Starting tomorrow, keep watch on this tea house,” Cheng Qianfan instructed. “Find out who owns it, where he usually goes, and what kinds of people he associates with.”

“Understood.”

“Don’t carry a weapon.” Cheng Qianfan glanced at Haozai. “Tomorrow I’ll bring you identification papers.”

The reason they had carried weapons today was because the nighttime reconnaissance involved too many unknowns.

If an unexpected situation arose, for example if the other side happened to be conducting an operation and a sudden encounter occurred, matters could become troublesome.

Fortunately, nothing of the sort had happened.

During daylight surveillance, there was no need for weapons.

Cheng Qianfan continued to feel that there was something strange about this tea house.

The reason was not solely Eguchi Hideya’s testimony.

Tea house.

A flash of inspiration suddenly crossed his mind.

The Japanese agent Huang San mentioned in Old Mo’s confession had operated an apothecary named Baicao Apothecary.

Its location was also on Avenue Joffre.

Could there be some hidden connection between Baicao Apothecary and Britannia Coffee and Tea?

If his deduction was correct, the token recovered from Old Mo was an identification badge issued by the Inoue Residence to collaborators.

Endo Hiroshi’s group belonged to the Inoue Residence.

Two establishments that had originally appeared completely unrelated now seemed connected by a hidden thread after careful analysis.

For a long time, although he possessed intelligence on the two Japanese espionage strongholds, Huang San’s Baicao Apothecary and Huichang Teahouse at the City God Temple,

Cheng Qianfan had never found an opportunity to place that intelligence “on the table” due to security concerns.

Because he could not explain the source of the information.

Now, however, such an opportunity seemed to have appeared.

Avenue Massenet.

Peng Yu’ou had not yet gone to sleep.

As a senior official of the Shanghai Municipal Committee, the burden on his shoulders was immense.

Especially after Zhuang Ze’s betrayal and the Party Affairs Investigation Department’s near-success in infiltrating the Communists with an agent.

The incident had frightened Peng Yu’ou into a cold sweat.

Fortunately, Comrade Xinghuo had issued a timely warning.

Otherwise, the consequences would have been unimaginable.

Now, the reason he still could not sleep peacefully was that same Comrade Xinghuo.

More than a month had passed since that warning, yet Comrade Xinghuo had not contacted the organization again.

This worried Peng Yu’ou tremendously.

The organization had done everything possible to conceal the source of the intelligence, even branding Zhuang Ze a traitor to the nation, thereby protecting the intelligence channel.

Had the enemy seen through the organization’s cover-up?

Had Comrade Xinghuo encountered danger?

As for Xinghuo’s identity, Peng Yu’ou had his suspicions.

His intuition told him that Comrade Xinghuo was probably Old Liao’s handler, the ace agent whom Comrade Zhulin had arranged to infiltrate the enemy before his sacrifice.

It was extraordinarily difficult for the organization to cultivate such an ace agent.

If this comrade were lost or sacrificed because of this matter, Peng Yu’ou would be heartbroken beyond measure.

He would never forgive himself.

Failing to protect one of his own comrades would be, in his eyes, a dereliction of duty.

The next day, morning sunlight covered the earth.

Cheng Qianfan changed into a clean and immaculate police uniform and carefully examined himself in the mirror.

A handsome young man.

After eating Liu A’da’s wontons,

He exchanged greetings with the neighbours and prepared to head to the Central Police Station at No. 22 Rue Vallon.

“Brother Fan, save me!”

A half-grown boy came running back from the mouth of the alley and threw himself at Cheng Qianfan.

With practised ease, Cheng Qianfan flipped the boy onto the ground and walked away laughing.

Behind him came the boy’s mournful cry:

“Brother Fan, you got me into trouble again!”