After agreeing on contact information with Zheng Jimin, Geng Chaozhong quickly left the apartment.
The flow of people on the street had begun to disperse, but this was not the end, but the beginning. Not long after Geng Chaozhong walked, he saw several suspected Jewish shops being smashed, and several Jewish elderly people were killed by several seemingly Jewish people.
Only young children in their teens were picked out and beaten up in the street.
Geng Chaozhong frowned and walked away quickly.
Walking along the street in front of the square to the end, and after turning a few turns, Geng Chaozhong came to the door of an apartment with a sign of "Le Figaro Berlin" and knocked on the door.
"Geng, how dare you go out? Come in quickly!"
A hand stretched out from the door and pulled Geng Chaozhong in.
This is a middle-aged man with a blue shaved chin, who is none other than Juan Jean, the Berlin bureau chief of Le Figaro.
After he pulled Geng Chaozhong into the house, he handed over a cup of coffee and asked nervously: "How is it outside?"
"Jews are being beaten everywhere. It's so chaotic." Geng Chaozhong spread his hands.
"Remember, you have to shave every day, understand?" Juan warned Geng Chaozhong, then raised his chin to demonstrate to Geng Chaozhong.
"I understand, but I'm afraid no one will think that I am a Jew." Geng Chaozhong chuckled.
"That's true." Juan touched his chin.
Jews have a religious habit of growing beards, so anyone with a beard will be arrested by angry citizens, so the most in demand item on the market now is razor blades.
"By the way, Mr. Huan, have you heard about the person you asked for for me?" Geng Chaozhong asked.
"Oh, that person," Juan flipped through the newspaper in his hand and lowered his head and said, "I have published it in Berliner Zeitung, Deutsche Zeitung, Deutsche Zeitung, and several bigger newspapers.
Although this editor-in-chief Huan has a good heart, he is always long-winded and can't stand his temper.
"There is a phone number," Juan raised his head. "There were several people named Schulz who called me. They have all been to Qingdao, but when they heard your surname was Geng, they all said they didn't recognize you."
"Uh..." Geng Chaozhong sat down disappointedly and began to drink the coffee that Juan had just handed over.
It has been three days since he arrived in Berlin. Using the identity of a reporter for the French newspaper "Le Figaro" provided by Mr. Fierlo, Geng Chaozhong can easily send missing persons information among his colleagues. But
The island city was once a German colony. Countless Germans have been there, and Schulz has a very common surname. It seems that it is not easy to find the Schulz you want.
The worst-case scenario is that Schulz is dead, which means that his intelligence line in Germany may need to be redeveloped.
The cup of coffee quickly emptied. Geng Chaozhong looked at Juan and was about to say hello and leave. At this moment, the phone next to him suddenly rang.
"Hello, Figaro Berlin Branch." Juan picked up the phone reflexively.
"Hello, my name is Schultz, and I'm looking for a Chinese named Geng."
A clear voice came from the microphone.
"Oh, do you know him?" Juan raised his head and glanced at Geng Chaozhong.
"Of course, I used to work in a prison, and that guy was a complete bastard. He was the most difficult prisoner I have ever seen." Another voice came from the phone.
"Yes, but you are far worse than you. You are the most disgusting prison warden I have ever seen." With a swipe, Geng Chaozhong snatched the phone from Juan's hand.
"Geng?"
There was no sound from the microphone for a moment, and after a while, a hesitant sound came out.
"Oh, Geng, is it really you? I read the newspaper and couldn't even believe my eyes. You actually came to Germany, my God, my God!" The voice on the microphone was very excited.
"Schulz, do you want to meet and chat with me, or do you want to just keep chatting like this?" Geng Chaozhong replied with a smile.
"Oh, oh, of course, but it may not be convenient to drink coffee now. I may not have time until 7:30 pm." Schultz said.
"Okay, I'll wait for you there tonight." Geng Chaozhong replied.
"ah!!!!"
Suddenly, a shrill scream came from the microphone. The sound was so loud that Geng Chaozhong trembled and almost dropped the microphone in his hand. Meanwhile, Juan next to him removed the cap of the pen in his mouth.
It was swallowed into the stomach with a "gudong" sound.
"Sorry, I made you hear some bad sounds, but you are familiar with me, right?" Schultz apologized on the microphone.
"Yes, I am very familiar with your style, my dear brother Schultz." Geng Chaozhong replied with a wry smile.
Putting down the phone, he turned to look at Huan who was picking his throat. Geng Chaozhong looked regretful and apologized: "I'm sorry, Mr. Huan, but I don't think your fingers can be stretched that long. You'd better go to the hospital.
"
"Asshole!" Mr. Huan looked at Geng Chaozhong dumbfounded.
"I'm sorry," Geng Chaozhong took out 10 francs from his pocket. "This is my personal apology to you."
"You must accompany me to the hospital, you must!" Mr. Juan began to scream.
"Okay!" Geng Chaozhong shrugged.
After all, there is still quite a while until evening.
........
The pen cap in Mr. Juan's stomach was not taken out until after 6 o'clock in the afternoon, and it was still in a very disgusting way. Therefore, when Geng Chaozhong rushed to the Montaire Cafe, it was already a quarter past 7 o'clock in the evening.
Fortunately, Schulz did not arrive.
Geng Chaozhong ordered two cups of coffee and began to wait quietly. However, when the steam from the coffee dissipated, Schultz still did not appear. Geng Chaozhong had to stand up, walk outside the store door and look into the distance.
Thank God, Schultz finally showed up at nine o'clock, half an hour later. He was wearing a black trench coat, but through the gaps in the trench coat, the gold buttons on his black and gray uniform could still be clearly seen.
"Schulz, I heard that Germans are very punctual." Geng Chaozhong stepped forward and gave Schulz a warm hug.
A lingering smell of blood assaulted Geng Chaozhong's taste buds...
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Schultz hugged Geng Chaozhong tightly. His protruding lower jaw now looked steeper, but his eyes were still so beautiful.
"Come on," Geng Chaozhong led Schultz to his seat, "tell me why you returned to your old career."
"Haha, cunning guy," Schultz took off his windbreaker and hung it on the hat hook next to him, "but you know, I don't have any other skills except interrogating prisoners."
"Where's the money?" Geng Chaozhong asked in a low voice.
"Oh, this is a sadder than sad story." Schulz's face suddenly became depressed.
"Tell me about it?" Geng Chaozhong suddenly became curious.
"After I came back, the European stock indexes had fallen to a very low level. I thought I might make another big profit, but..." Schultz spread his hands.