Chapter 20: The Skills of the Accounting Department (Part 2)

Saturday morning.

Xu Ruiyang sat leisurely by the window in a café, sipping coffee and smoking a cigar. The cigars were from a large box gifted by Haruka Inoue, and he hadn’t dared to smoke many. Cigars were an obvious symbol of status and luxury, drawing a heated gaze from the beautiful White Russian woman nearby.

“Who’s that pretty girl?” Xu Ruiyang called over the female waitress sitting beside him, pointing at the White Russian woman handing a matchbox to Wilson, while slipping the waitress twenty Manchukuo yuan.

“That’s Natalia. You’ve got a good eye. I could set up a meeting for you, but it costs two hundred Manchukuo yuan a night. She can’t be kept regularly, though, because someone often secretly calls her out!” The waitress looked at Xu with a suggestive smile, assuming he was interested in Natalia’s beauty.

“Two hundred a night? Who’s rich enough to pay that and keep her long-term?” Xu Ruiyang was astonished.

His patrolman’s salary was twenty-one yuan and some change. It would take ten months to afford one night with Natalia. Now that he was in the security bureau, it still took two months to save that much.

“Natalia still works at the café. It’s not really ‘keeping her,’ but she’s often called out overnight. She won’t say much, but I overheard her on the phone—she’s definitely going out tonight. A car will pick her up, apparently to the Changbai Hotel,” the equally beautiful White Russian waitress whispered.

Such matters were probably commonplace among them, so no secrecy was maintained. Xu Ruiyang gained a crucial piece of information.

Around eight o’clock, a yellow compact taxi arrived at the Changbai Hotel. Natalia stepped out, unaware that Xu Ruiyang, sitting beside the front desk reading a newspaper, was watching her. She went straight upstairs.

Xu quietly followed and saw her enter room 208. Then he went downstairs to the front desk, slipped twenty yuan to the clerk, and quietly asked, “Do you know who’s staying in room 208?”

The clerk, familiar with his identification, whispered, “He’s a regular guest here, as is that White Russian woman. Usually, they stay in 208. Once, when the police checked, I heard him called Ma Yonghao, an officer in the Military and Political Department’s Staff Division.”

Having a White Russian woman brought to a hotel wasn’t unusual in the borderlands—many dignitaries did the same. Ma Yonghao saw no need to hide his identity and didn’t dare to. A little money smoothed things over, and the matter was forgotten.

The Military and Political Department was now the Public Security Department. Before July in the 26th year of the Republic, it was called the Military and Political Department. The current Public Security Minister was Yu Zhishan, who had held key posts: Chief Aide-de-camp to Marshal Zhang, commander of the 30th Army, and Eastern District Garrison Commander.

The Public Security Department oversaw the puppet state’s military and police, closely tied to the Kwantung Army. Through staff officers like Ma Yonghao, military secrets of the Kwantung Army could be gathered. He was a valuable asset, making this intelligence line especially important.

In just three days, Xu Ruiyang cracked a spy case that the Foreign Affairs Counterintelligence Division had been puzzling over for over half a year. Yet, he hesitated, weighing the pros and cons.

The Japanese were invaders deserving death, but the Americans were no friends to China. Didn’t the public concessions in Shanghai still stand as a century-long national humiliation?

If he arrested Ma Yonghao and Natalia, his position in Foreign Affairs Counterintelligence would be solidified, earning rewards and possibly promotions—but it would surely offend the Americans.

Developing an asset like this was no easy feat. To the American diplomatic apparatus in the borderlands, Ma Yonghao was invaluable. Through him, the U.S. military could learn the Kwantung Army’s troop numbers, unit designations, garrisons, defensive zones, and a host of other military secrets.

Yet without solving this case, Xu would remain sidelined in the security bureau, unable to access more intelligence. The glory was indispensable.

He decided to test Wilson’s attitude. Holding the initiative, he didn’t want to alienate the Americans because of the Japanese.

Not out of fear, but because there was no need to make enemies—after all, the Americans had no conflict with him in the puppet state for now.

As long as the other side could provide equivalent intelligence, they could establish a mutually beneficial relationship. Long-term undercover work demanded strong connections, which might prove useful someday.

“Don’t shout. Hand over the matchbox where you hide the intelligence. You won’t get into trouble and might even benefit!”

On Sunday morning, as Natalia passed the restroom, someone suddenly covered her mouth and dragged her inside. A cold pistol pressed against her temple.

Under threat and persuasion, Natalia obediently handed over the matchbox. She wasn’t a foreign agent with obligations to secrecy—her safety came first.

Xu Ruiyang opened the matchbox and found a small slip of paper inside. It detailed the readiness status of the Japanese 23rd Infantry Division in the Hailar region.

“Don’t say a word or ask questions. Your cooperation will be rewarded. Go back to serving as usual. Such a beautiful girl—if you died, it’d be a shame. I can’t bring myself to harm you,” Xu whispered in her ear.

Such remarkable composure from this White Russian beauty!

When Natalia exited the restroom, she showed no panic. Instead, she smiled back at him, her exotic eyes stirring a restless feeling in Xu’s heart.

What was going on?

Wilson, about to light a cigar, looked dumbfounded holding the matchbox. He eyed Natalia suspiciously.

There was no intelligence hidden in the matchbox he held. According to his arrangement with the informant, the signal outside indicated intelligence today—so what was this about?

His gaze swept to a nearby table, where a sharply dressed young man calmly held a matchbox.

Wilson’s expression stiffened instantly.

Years of experience told him that this man had found his intelligence source and beaten him to retrieving the matchbox.

Since when did the puppet state’s intelligence agency harbor such a formidable figure?

This method was his own painstaking invention, flawless for years—now it had been outsmarted.

But Wilson was an experienced spy. Since the man had evidence but hadn’t arrested him on the spot, he might be waiting to negotiate.

The U.S. could offer nothing but money in the puppet state.

If that was the man’s aim, it was simple. Thanks to the large amount of top-secret intelligence from the informant, Wilson’s budget was generous, and his autonomy high.

Wilson stood, approached the young man, sat down beside him, and offered a cigar.

(End of chapter)