ebookslot Chapter 77 Three Forks
Chapter 77 Three Forks
Chapter 77 Crossroads
The group stood on a deserted little platform.
The wind swirled coal dust and bits of wild grass, and in the distance, there were only a few low-lying tiled houses and a field; no vehicles or horses were in sight, only two railway tracks stretching into the distance.
"It's all those Japanese barbarians' fault for meddling."
Zhong Ding glanced at Renault's expression and cautiously asked, "Captain, what's next—"
Renault glanced at the sky; leaden clouds pressed down over the city walls, it was already afternoon.
He didn't speak, but turned and walked towards the guardhouse at the end of the platform. His adjutant followed closely behind.
The wooden door creaked open. Inside was an old duty officer in a dirty, worn-out railway uniform, reading a newspaper by the light of a kerosene lamp. He was startled.
Reno said in fluent Chinese, "French Concession Central Police Station, Special Investigation Team. Use your railway telephone to connect to the French Concession Municipal Council Police Department."
The old duty officer's hand trembled, and the newspaper slipped out.
He knew what the uniform and the airs meant, so he didn't dare ask any more questions. He quickly nodded and bowed, leading the way to a hand-cranked magneto telephone in the corner.
"Sir, please, please use it. We need to connect to the switchboard first, then transfer to Tianjin Station, and then to the foreign concession. It may take some time."
Renault gestured with his chin towards his adjutant. The adjutant stepped forward, took the phone, and began to crank it, speaking fluent French with the operator.
Renault walked back to the platform and said to the others, "Wait for the train."
Zhong Ding breathed a sigh of relief and found a relatively clean stone stool to sit down.
Chen Q opened his notebook and began to record the chaos that had just occurred, his brow furrowed as he tried to use his expertise to untangle the mess.
Zhou Xing leaned against a rusty pillar, pulled out half a pack of "Old Knife" cigarettes (the pack was crushed), put one in his mouth but didn't light it. His gaze swept over the guardhouse.
About half an hour later, the sound of a car engine could be heard in the distance.
A black, older model Ford car bumped along the dirt road, its body splattered with mud. The driver was a French police officer.
Renault shook his head: "Get in the car. Back to headquarters."
No one spoke in the car on the way back.
The group returned to the central police station, looking disheveled. Lunch consisted of cold ham sandwiches and canned soup. They ate in silence, the occasional clinking of knives and forks in the canteen echoing through the room.
Chen Qi quickly ate a few bites, then pushed up his glasses: "Captain, I'm going to get the lab report."
With that, he got up and walked away quickly.
He returned in less than fifteen minutes, holding a few sheets of paper in his hand, his face showing a hint of certainty: "Captain, the river mud and aquatic plant fibers extracted from the cracks in the attic floor, after comparison, show that their composition is more than 90% similar to the sediments in the riverbed near the Sanchakou."
He pointed to a line of data in the report: "The water flows there, and the sediment has unique layers. It can be confirmed that the carrier has been frequently entering and leaving the Sanchakou area recently."
Renault took the report, glanced at it, and put it down: "Understood."
Seeing his reaction, Zhong Ding tentatively asked, "So, what are we?"
Renault put the last piece of sandwich in his mouth, chewed it slowly, wiped every inch of his mouth with a napkin, and then stood up.
"Let's go, to the Haihe River."
The car couldn't drive deep into the dock, so it had to stop outside the riverbank. The group got out and walked.
The name "Sanchakou" (Three Forks) is truly fitting, as three waterways converge here, and the water surface is etched with countless murky gullies by the passing boats.
The dock reeked of fish, coal ash, rotting vegetable leaves, and sweat. Loud and noisy shouts rang out from time to time.
The laborers carrying heavy loads shouted work chants, their backs bent like bows; the cart wheels were stuck in the mud, the driver's neck veins bulged, and he cursed and swore.
Food vendors called out their wares under makeshift sheds, while flies swarmed around the greasy stove.
Ragged children weaved through the crowd, their eyes gleaming with an alarming light as they stared at every pocket that might hold a coin.
Further away, boats of all sizes were densely packed along the shore, their sails like a forest.
There were oars, small steamboats billowing black smoke, and mostly covered boats and barges, their hulls greasy and black, and they drafted deep into the water.
Zhong Ding only glanced at it a few times before his brows furrowed into a knot: "Damn it, this is like finding a needle in a haystack!"
Chen Qi had already found the dock management office, which was just a shack made of wooden planks and tarpaulin.
Inside sat a lean man, his chest open, revealing a dark blue tattoo, picking his teeth with his legs crossed.
"Police station handling a case."
Chen Qiliang showed his identification, his tone formal and official, "Excuse me, in the last two days, have you seen two men dressed like Southeast Asians, carrying—approximately this size—a basket on their backs?"
He gestured with his hand to estimate the dimensions from the dusty outline of the attic.
The man didn't even lift his eyelids, continuing to pick his teeth: "Southeast Asians? There are plenty of people from all over the country here, who can remember them all?"
"They might be acting mysteriously, unlike ordinary businessmen."
"Sir,"
The man finally glanced sideways at Chen Qi, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'm just a dockworker. Boats come and go, pay to dock—it's only fair. What others carry, how mysterious they are, has nothing to do with me."
Before Chen Qi could say anything more, Zhou Xing had already walked over.
He didn't look at the man, but reached into his pocket and took out two shiny silver coins, gently placing them on the wooden table.
A crisp "ding" sounded.
The man's gaze fell on the silver dollar, and he stopped picking his teeth. He slowly sat up straight, a smile spreading across his face, his wrinkles crinkling together: "Oh, this young master knows his manners!"
He grabbed the silver dollar, weighed it in his hand, and quickly stuffed it into his pocket. His attitude immediately warmed up. "Now that you mention it, a couple of days ago, there seemed to be two people, with dark skin, speaking in a broken English, carrying a rather heavy basket, who boarded the Shunfeng ship."
"Shunfeng? Where is it?"
"Over there, the seventh berth from the east, the old cargo barge with the chimney."
The man pointed in a direction, then lowered his voice, "But sir, it's the same boat, but I really don't know what kind of business they do on board. We just collect a mooring fee."
Looking at his shifty eyes, Zhou Xing knew that what he said was half true and half false.
This dock is within the Green Gang's sphere of influence. How could the manager not know about the business on the ship? He's just talking half the story for the money.
Chen Qi breathed a sigh of relief and turned to Zhou Xing: "You really do have a way."
"What happens in the martial world, let it be."
Zhou Xing said calmly, then looked at Renault, "Captain, can this expense be reimbursed?"
Renault stood a few steps away, quietly watching everything, and nodded upon hearing this: "Okay."
Zhong Ding opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to say "This is against the rules," but seeing Renault's expression, he swallowed his words.
The group walked in the direction the steward pointed out.
The "Shunfeng" bus was indeed easy to find.
A steam cargo barge that looks quite old, with peeling paint, a deep waterline, and smoke billowing from its chimney.
On the deck were some goods covered with tarpaulins, and several men who looked like boatmen squatted in the shadows smoking, their eyes scanning the dock warily.
Zhong Ding took the lead, stepping onto the creaking gangplank to board the ship.
"Hey, gentlemen, who are you looking for?"
A burly boatman stood up and stood in front of the gangplank, his face full of fat and a smile.
>