The grandson of the last Tsar Nicholas II, a White Russian nobleman in exile?!
Geng Chaozhong's lips under the black gauze couldn't help but tremble - what on earth is going on?
Yanzi and Bledsoe, who were senior agents of the Cheka Northern District, actually got together with the staunchest opponents of the Soviet regime, the White Russian nobles who had been exiled after the October Revolution, and the grandchildren of Tsar Nicholas II!
Could it be that I connected the wrong connector?
Or is this originally a Rashomon?
For a moment, Geng Chaozhong was in a trance. Next to him, Edmundo still maintained that noble and conceited demeanor. This made Geng Chaozhong feel a little embarrassed for a moment.
"What's wrong? My friend?" Edmundo noticed something strange about Geng Chaozhong.
"Uh, it's nothing," Geng Chaozhong reacted quickly, and a plan quickly formed in his mind. He paused and finally said:
"Dear Sir Edmundo, you are actually a descendant of the distinguished Tsar Nicholas II. This makes me extremely surprised, but at the same time, please allow me to pay my highest respect. Because, I
, who are descendants of His Majesty the Tsar’s Far Eastern Cossack Legion.”
After saying that, Geng Chaozhong pulled off his veil, revealing his oriental face.
The Cossacks themselves are of Turkic descent. Although they have acquired some Caucasian characteristics after years of mixing, a few of their descendants, especially the Cossack regiments stationed in the Far East, still have particularly obvious East Asian features.
Edmundo looked at Geng Chaozhong's face. After a long time, he sighed and said in a low voice: "Okay, brave descendant of the Cossacks, I'm glad you came to me. Now, I'll take you
Go to a place where you will see many of our comrades, and if you are lucky, Bledsoe might be there too."
"Okay, distinguished Viscount Edmundo, I am willing to follow your command and fight to regain the great Russian Empire." Geng Chaozhong bowed slightly.
"Come with me!"
Edmundo nodded reservedly and walked slowly away.
...........
"YD bitches, shameless thieves, crazy SS thugs, what do they think Paris is?! The butts of those bastards in Queens?!"
The corridors of the Secret Police Office of the Ministry of National Defense in Paris echoed with Inspector Locke's crazy roar. In a narrow office, several agents covered in scars and wrapped in various gauze were watching in embarrassment and anger.
Inspector Locke.
"Sir, please don't be angry. We can choose to report it to the authorities to protest against the Germans' rampant actions." An agent suggested in a low voice.
"Fart, the Sal District has been lost, what's the use of protesting?! Do you want to show the incompetence of our internal affairs police to everyone?! Idiot, waste!" Inspector Locke's madness still showed no sign of stopping.
"Your Excellency, please calm down. Perhaps, we can conduct some investigations on the German Jewish immigrant groups in Paris. You know, they are all exiles who opposed Adolf's tyranny. Maybe they can provide us with something useful." Another one.
An agent suggested.
"Go on, hurry up, I can no longer tolerate the arrogance of the Germans. This is the Paris of the French, not the Germans, nor the Russians!" Inspector Locke said through gritted teeth.
"As you command, Your Excellency!" Several of his subordinates filed out.
Inspector Locke looked at the back of his men who were retreating in embarrassment. He picked up the brandy beside the table and took a sip. His heaving chest finally calmed down before the flush rushed to his face.
Just two hours ago, the internal affairs police responsible for arresting Bledsoe were attacked by a group of Germans who spoke strange French. Bledsoe was also kidnapped by the Germans. As for why he knew that the Germans were
Man - it's very simple. The extremely rigid movements and behavioral norms, as well as the determination and coldness without saying a word before dying, are definitely not something that these "romantic" subordinates under my command can achieve.
Yes, be damned "romantic!"
Inspector Locke cursed fiercely. He had deep despair for this nation. Not long after the glory of Napoleon had dissipated, these people who should have been shrouded in glory have turned into a group of idiots who only know how to eat, drink and have fun.
Apart from being nostalgic for the major theaters and luxurious salons in Paris, they only occasionally wiped the rusty revolver with a white handkerchief.
"Inspector Locke," a subordinate opened the door and walked in timidly, "Mr. Firlow's car is parked outside, and he wants to see you."
"Okay, okay, only he can bring me some comfort." Although Inspector Locke was still sarcastic, there was something called "hope" in his tone.
Outside the dilapidated two-story building of the Secret Police Office, a Chevrolet sedan was parked. Inspector Locke, wearing a large trench coat, soon appeared at the door and got into the back seat of the sedan.
"Inspector Locke, I heard that you haven't been in a good mood lately." Mr. Filo's voice came from next to him.
"It's okay. Strictly speaking, I've never been in a good mood." At this time, Inspector Locke's voice was very indifferent.
"Your anger is the reason why I respect you. Of course, I am here this time to provide you with some help." Mr. Filo's Mediterranean-like head glowed under the moonlight, like a pure saint.
only.
"Thank you. What news did you get?" Inspector Locke seemed to be a little interested.
"Concerning what happened this afternoon," Mr. Fierlo began, "according to my information, the socialite named Marion you arrested is actually related to a Tsarist Russian radical organization called the 'Supreme Royalist Party.'"
"The Supreme Royalists?" Inspector Locke was stunned for a moment, "You mean, they are supporters of the Tsar? This is impossible!"
"Why is it impossible?" Mr. Phillot asked.
"According to our investigation, they are undoubtedly members of the Soviet Union's Counterrevolutionary Committee. I once observed that they had close contact with certain personnel from the Soviet Embassy." Inspector Locke hesitated for a moment, but still said what he said.
situation under control.
"Huh?" Mr. Fierlo was stunned. He also had conclusive evidence that this "Marion" had a close relationship with the anti-Soviet organization "Supreme Royalist Party."
"this........"
Both of them were stunned. They looked at each other and suddenly thought of a possibility at the same time.
"Fishing?" The two said a French word almost at the same time.