Chapter 97: The Sly Asano
Shanghai, Special Higher Police Affairs cell.
He didn’t know how much time had passed when Zhang Mingda woke up under the stimulation of pain.
Looking around, he had now been brought to a cell.
The cell contained only a stone bed made of a stone block plus some straw.
Cockroaches, bedbugs, and other small animals could still be vaguely seen crawling around on it.
“Clang.” A door-opening sound rang out, accompanied by neat footsteps, as a group of Japanese devils entered led by Asano Omiya.
“Mr. Zhang, let me tell you some good news. I think you won’t have to suffer much longer.” Asano Omiya’s stiff voice rang out.
“Your Excellency Fujita has approved the order. Since you refuse to say anything, you will be taken to the execution ground and executed by firing squad immediately.”
Hearing this, Zhang Mingda unexpectedly felt relieved for no reason.
“Take him away.” Asano Omiya waved his hand, and the Japanese devils behind him immediately opened the cell door, dragging Zhang Mingda out from left and right.
At this moment, if anyone looked carefully, they would notice that blood was continuously flowing from Zhang Mingda’s heel. Clearly, the Japanese devils had severed his tendons during torture, making it impossible for him to walk normally.
In just a few short hours, they could torture a person into this state. Even calling these Japanese beasts would insult the word “beast.”
After exiting the gate, Zhang Mingda instinctively squinted his eyes. It was already bright outside, with a round, red sun rising from the east.
“Sun, so good.” Zhang Mingda murmured, but soon, under the coercion of the Japanese devils, he got into the black van.
The van’s destination was naturally the execution ground outside Shanghai.
After the car started, it sped toward the suburbs and soon saw Shanghai’s old city wall.
The morning sun’s rays dyed the long street paved with bluestone a brilliant golden color.
The city wall’s huge shadow stretched obliquely, cutting through the figures below the city wall.
Along below the city wall was a long row of breakfast stalls, already crowded with many people early in the morning.
Fried ghosts, soy milk, pan-fried buns, small wontons—Shanghai’s special snacks could all be found here.
The most eye-catching was a fried fish stall by the roadside. Slender knife fish were fried golden yellow, sprinkled with various seasonings, and even the air was filled with the fragrant aroma of the fried fish stall and a faint hint of gunpowder smoke.
“Screech,” a sudden emergency brake caused Zhang Mingda’s body to lurch forward involuntarily.
Instantly, the sound of Japanese and Chinese mixed cursing came to his ears: “Baka, are you trying to die?”
“Taijun, sorry, sorry.” A series of apologies rang out.
In front of the car, a middle-aged man wearing a coarse cloth long gown kept bowing and apologizing to the driver, and Zhang Mingda’s eyes lit up the moment he saw the man.
Gray Rat—the man before him was clearly one of his downlines, the Shanghai Transportation Station contact, codenamed Gray Rat, Zhao Peng.
“Baka, get out of the way now.” The driver angrily honked the horn twice.
“Yes, yes, Taijun, I’ll get out right away.” Zhao Peng slowly pushed his bicycle, then suddenly shouted loudly toward the van: “Get down.”
This voice was like an order. The oil pot at the fried fish stall on the street corner was suddenly overturned, spilling hot oil everywhere, with smoke billowing!
“Rat-tat-tat.” The stall owner grabbed a machine gun hidden under the cutting board and unleashed a burst toward the van!
Bullets swept over like pouring water, instantly causing panic among countless people.
“Baka! Communist Party! Kill them all!”
The van’s back door was kicked open forcefully, and Japanese soldiers holding Type 38 rifles jumped out one after another to exchange fire with the enemy.
Muzzles spat flames, the crisp bursts of Type 38 rifles and the dull shots of Nambu pistols instantly drowning out the cries on the long street.
While both sides were exchanging fire, a figure agilely made its way to the rear of the van.
“Shānmāo, how are you? Can you still walk?”
Zhang Mingda looked up and saw Zhao Peng standing vigilantly at the van’s back door.
“The organization learned of your arrest and specially sent the Jiangsu and Zhejiang Regions Guerrilla Team to rescue you.”
“This is not a place to stay long. Can you still walk?”
Zhang Mingda waved his hand and said, “Gray Rat, I can’t walk. They severed my tendons. If you take me, none of you will get out.”
“Gray Rat, listen carefully. I found the contact signal left by the special commissioner at San Quan Water Station on Baima Road.”
“However, my level is too low; I can’t access the cipher book for such signals.”
“By my estimate, the special commissioner is definitely hiding in one of the cotton mills on Baima Road, disguised as a female worker.”
“You must go extract the person as soon as possible. If you’re late, something might go wrong.”
“Got it, I remember.” Zhao Peng nodded, then suddenly said to the side, “Taijun Asano, did you hear that clearly?”
“Very clearly, Zhang Sang. Thank you for your cooperation with the Empire.” Asano Omiya’s mocking voice came from the side of the car.
“Cease fire, assemble.” Asano Omiya issued the order.
The gunfight on the long street came to an abrupt halt, and those “Communist Party” members holding weapons all gathered toward the van.
Only now did Zhang Mingda realize that these men dressed in coarse cloth and hemp clothes, disguised as Communist Party, mostly had a mustache.
These were no Communist Party at all; they were clearly Japanese devils in disguise.
“Gray Rat, you—you’re a traitor?” Zhang Mingda finally reacted.
“A wise bird chooses the best tree. How am I a traitor? I just chose what I think is the right path.”
Zhao Peng sneered, “Let me tell you another secret. Do you know why the contact point at Dahua Bookstore was exposed?”
Zhang Mingda’s eyes bulged with rage, pointing at Zhao Peng with his right hand: “You—you—it was you who betrayed me.”
Zhao Peng chuckled lightly, “Congratulations, correct.”
“Think about it: if not for me, how would you have been exposed? I don’t know who your upline is, but I’m certain he hasn’t left Shanghai far.”
“Shānmāo, as long as you’re willing to cooperate with Taijun, gold notes, beautiful women—you’ll have whatever you want.”
“Dream on.” Zhang Mingda knew he had been tricked and decisively closed his eyes, saying nothing more.
“Bang.” Asano Omiya raised his Nambu pistol and shot Zhang Mingda in the center of the forehead.
“This man is useless now. Our primary task is to capture that New Army special commissioner.”
“Yamaki, return to Special Higher Police Affairs immediately and report to Section Chief Matsui that the New Army special commissioner may be hiding in a cotton mill near Baima Road.”
“Tell him to have Major Ando seal off all exits around the cotton mills as soon as possible. Even if they have to search inch by inch, they must find this special commissioner.”
“Hai.” Yamaki Kenichi bowed slightly, ran to the base of the city wall, where a tricycle was already parked.
Yamaki Kenichi got on the tricycle and hurried back.
Asano Omiya turned to his assembled subordinates and shouted sternly, “Everyone, on my order, get in the car. Target: Baima Road cotton mill.”
“Move out.”
“Hai.”
