Spying

46 Fragments

Oftentimes, the work of intelligence agencies is mystified through word of mouth. But the reality is far from it. Gathering intelligence is mostly tedious, repetitive desk work. Whether in the Second Department of the Ministry of National Defense or the Confidentiality Bureau, field agents engaged in operations make up only a small fraction—most of those serving the system are desk-bound clerks.

Li Helin, the newly appointed acting director of the Second Department, understood this well.

Moreover, he knew that the Communist Party’s intelligence operations unfolded in much the same way—far from the adrenaline-fueled, high-stakes scenes or the elusive, chivalrous figures of legend. Take, for example, the exposure of Okamura Neiji’s secret release. If he were an experienced Communist intelligence operative, he wouldn’t directly target the so-called "Number One War Criminal" as their leadership labeled him. Instead, he would exploit the incident to incite public outrage.

If using Zhu Yanjun’s pen to expose Okamura Neiji’s release was meant to undermine Director Hou, who had originally been responsible for the matter, then the next step—following the wave of public anger to uncover the hidden Communist underground organization—would be his "grand debut" as the head of the Second Department. With the frontlines at war, the rear would focus on rooting out Communists. Though Li Helin had never been particularly interested in work that fell under the Confidentiality Bureau’s purview, if he could effortlessly accomplish their tasks while they were in a slump, wouldn’t that further demonstrate his capabilities as acting director?

Thus, from the moment he was assigned the task of escorting Okamura Neiji to Nanjing, Li Helin had no intention of following protocol to the letter. He was playing a long game—how could he allow himself to be reduced to a mere bodyguard for a colleague?

His exploitation of Zhu Yanjun naturally didn’t stop at having her write an article to his specifications.

Intelligence gathering was like assembling a tangram—it wasn’t about solving the entire puzzle in one move, but about piecing together fragments as they emerged, relying on analysts to fit them together until the full picture was revealed. Often, those fragments didn’t even come from the image being studied but from elsewhere.

Once the Xinmin Evening News published its report, aside from journalists from other newspapers springing into action, another group that would react swiftly was the young students from secondary schools and universities. Jinling High School and Central University, as in many past instances, were the main forces behind protest marches. And if the Communist underground sought to amplify public dissent to pressure the Nationalist government, they would inevitably reach out to these students, offering guidance on organizing demonstrations.

Li Helin was also convinced that some of these students already had ties to the Communists.

This brought him back to the early stages of the Han Guizhang incident. What had the Communists done to mislead their investigation?

—They stole identification documents from foreigners in the capital. Among them was a British passport taken to a forger. Shen Tong, who had gone to investigate, had even crossed paths with the young woman using the alias "Gao Yu."

Since then, a team of analysts in the Second Department had been working on a long-term project: comparing the sketch based on Shen Tong’s description to student records from major universities in Nanjing to identify that face. Once they narrowed down a few candidates, Li Helin issued Zhu Yanjun a new directive.As for why Zhu Yanjun would obey his orders—using the pretext of covering protest activities to locate a female student in the marching crowds of various schools who had once collaborated with a certain Communist or organization—it all goes back to the phone call she received in Room 502 of the Yangtze Hotel, after being tricked and confined by Shen Tong for several days.

At the time, the call came from the Capital Police Department. The voice on the other end said, "Miss Zhu, how could you leave home without telling your parents your whereabouts or where you’re staying? President Ouyang of your newspaper has defected to the Communists. Fortunately, you’re not on his side—otherwise, how worried they would be! We’ve already brought them to the police station. Knowing you’re safe will put their minds at ease, and we can send them home soon..."

Zhu Yanjun gripped the receiver and asked, "...How did you know I was here?"

But the other side dodged the question. "Finish your work and come back quickly. No job is more important than family."

At the same time, she heard her mother’s voice on the line: "Can I speak to my daughter—"

Zhu Yanjun whipped her head around to glare at Li Helin, only to find him perfectly composed, as if he had anticipated every word of the call.

"What are you going to do to my parents?" she shouted at him.

"If Miss Zhu is willing to cooperate, I naturally have no reason to disturb your parents' lives. But if not... the Capital Power Plant is also a government enterprise. It wouldn’t be difficult to invite your father in for a cup of tea."

When recruiting informants for intelligence work, threats are just as effective as bribes of money or power. Zhu Yanjun, a young and promising journalist full of idealism and professional integrity, was unmoved by promises of "a bright future in journalism." The only leverage that worked was threatening the people she cared about most.

The Ministry of National Defense knew her home address and her father’s workplace. Moreover, Li Helin spoke to her with feigned concern: "Don’t even think about moving your family away. Where could you go that we wouldn’t find you? Many veterans in your industry have cooperated with government agencies. I’m only asking you to occasionally handle some harmless tasks for me. In return, you’ll get exclusive information known only to top officials—it’s a win-win. A talented journalist like you, Miss Zhu... even if I hadn’t approached you today, someone else would have tomorrow. But others might not be as reasonable as I am."

And so, it came to this: Zhu Yanjun, using the same deceitful tactics, delivered unsuspecting university students to the Ministry of National Defense’s safe house, where Communist suspects and democratic activists were secretly interrogated. At first, she felt guilty, but after a few times, she grew numb to it.

Through this, Li Helin found a crucial piece of the Tangram puzzle.

Based on the fragile confessions of the students, there was indeed a leader of an underground Communist organization active in Nanjing recently—though no one knew his name. Li Helin recalled two codenames that had surfaced in the Confidentiality Bureau’s records months earlier: Silkworm Keeper and 1207.

But according to Lu Peng, after that sudden intercepted telegram, there had been no further communications mentioning those names, nor any sudden appearances of private radio stations.Li Helin looked through the interrogation records of the female student using the alias "Gao Yu." It mentioned that after an unexpected visit from someone, she had inadvertently revealed that she needed to return to work near Xinjiekou.

Li Helin called the Telecommunications Headquarters and the Analysis Division, ordering them to conduct a covert radio sweep of the Xinjiekou area. It was, of course, an enormous task, but the staff from both departments worked day and night. Driving a vehicle marked as belonging to the waterworks—but in reality equipped with radio detection devices—they soon discovered something suspicious: what appeared to be a bank’s official radio, typically used for business communications with companies, factories, and branches elsewhere, discussing matters like deposits, client accounts, and investments. However, the foreign exchange information didn’t contain actual figures but rather something resembling a code.

A bank?

Li Helin felt his right eyelid twitch. Xinjiekou was practically a hub for major banks and money houses. And hadn’t one of them recently crossed his radar?

Former Third Bureau Director Liu Kangjie had been hoarding gold at the Zhejiang Industrial Bank. While his Communist affiliation had been an "unexpected boon" for Li Helin, could those missing funds really have been funneled to the Communist Party? And was the person facilitating their circulation an underground Communist operative hiding within the bank?

The codebreaker reported that while the cipher hadn’t been fully cracked, the frequency of coded messages related to "foreign exchange" had increased significantly in recent days. Something must have happened—or was about to happen—that required the underground Communist to communicate more urgently with his superiors.

What could it be?

Turning to the city map of Nanjing on the wall, Li Helin’s gaze settled on the Five Continents of Black Tortoise Lake.

All of this had unfolded just before the Mid-Autumn Festival.

The Confidentiality Bureau had been tasked by the Ministry of National Defense—grudgingly, but with no choice—to provide security for a so-called military advisor at Emerald Isle starting from the festival. Lu Peng had just stepped out of the director’s office when Li Helin called. The acting head of the Second Bureau didn’t sound overbearing despite his promotion; instead, he spoke warmly, expressing gratitude and remarking that seasoned agents like Lu Peng—experienced yet still sharp as field operatives—were becoming increasingly rare.

He even brought up the Sixth Division of the Second Bureau, which had been responsible for the operation to arrest Han Guizhang. Not only had they leaked information beforehand, but their pursuit afterward had been inefficient. Now, the division chief position was vacant…

Lu Peng paused, pretending not to catch the implication, and simply assured him that he would handle security at Emerald Isle properly.

The irony was almost unbearable. Lu Peng had graduated from the Central Military Academy at the end of the 29th year of the Republic and was recruited into Military Intelligence the following year. His first mission had been to assassinate Okamura Neiji, then the Japanese North China Area Army commander, in Shimen. The operation failed, and he returned to Chongqing with a bullet wound in his left abdomen. Who could have imagined that seven years later, he’d be putting himself in the crosshairs of an unknown sniper—this time to protect the very man he’d once been sent to kill?

On the afternoon of the Mid-Autumn Festival, within fifteen minutes of the first gunshot, the Xuanwu Gate on the west side of the park was sealed off. Among those who hadn’t managed to leave in time were A Mang, whose suspicious vehicle had already drawn police scrutiny, and Peng Yongcheng, who had delayed his own escape to cover Ren Shaobai’s retreat.When Ren Shaobai crawled ashore near the drainage outlet beneath the ancient city wall of Southeast Lake, Lu Peng, who was conducting inspections on Emerald Bridge, was shocked to discover that the three bullets—two hits and one miss—were once again the dumdum bullets he had become all too familiar with recently. His subordinates also found a discarded modified rifle in the janitor's room of the old training platform in the direction of the gunfire.

Suddenly, he realized that the shooter's third bullet had not been aimed at Okamura Neiji, but at himself.

Two seemingly unrelated incidents had abruptly merged into one. Could the Communist Party leader Li Helin was investigating and the mysterious shooter targeting Military Intelligence Section operatives be the same person?

The next day, Ren Shaobai and Lan Youyin went to work as usual and coincidentally entered the Ministry of National Defense building at the same time. They exchanged a casual nod before heading to their respective offices, where they each received comments from colleagues—

"Shaobai, why do you still look so exhausted after a few days off? Those dark circles are pretty heavy."

"Section Chief Lan, you don't look well today. Did you stay up late last night?"

It wasn't until they met again at their usual smoking spot that Ren Shaobai finally lost his temper: "Lan Youyin, you've really kept all of us in the dark. Have you been using us as your tools all along?"

So much had happened so quickly these past few days that Lan Youyin hadn't even noticed when Ren Shaobai had started addressing her by her full name.

But now wasn't the time to dwell on such things.

"The first shot missed you, and the second was a panicked shot fired wildly into the air. Ren Shaobai, you're angry at yourself, and pinning the blame on me won't ease your guilt," Lan Youyin said coldly. Standing upwind, the smoke she exhaled carried her mockery straight into Ren Shaobai's face. "As for the third shot, I'd like to ask you—what exactly is your relationship with that senior brother of yours that you keep risking yourself to save him? Are you fellow Whampoa alumni, or are you both Communists?"

Ren Shaobai stiffened, nearly reaching out to cover her mouth. Fortunately, they were outdoors with no obstructions around, eliminating any risk of eavesdropping. Moreover, with every department either holding separate or joint meetings to discuss the Jinan battlefield, the two of them were openly slacking off without fear of being overheard.

"Do you really think Lu Peng is some sheep you can just lead away?" Ren Shaobai retorted irritably.

Lan Youyin replied, "If my shot had hit, your 'superior' might have avoided landing on the Confidentiality Bureau's suspect list. Are you so certain his disguise can fool Lu Peng's nose?"

The previous day, a large crowd of tourists had been detained outside Xuanwu Gate. The Confidentiality Bureau couldn't possibly interrogate everyone at Honggongci, but they meticulously checked each person on-site for traces of gunpowder residue. Of course, they found nothing—both shooters had fortunately escaped in time. Still, someone as experienced in hunting Communists as Lu Peng might still have noticed Peng Yongcheng in the crowd.

This was predictable. Even Peng Yongcheng himself had been extra cautious after the park reopened, carefully checking for Confidentiality Bureau tails on his way home.

But no matter how careful one is, everyone has blind spots.The technical department of the Confidentiality Bureau found multiple fingerprints on the rifle discovered at the scene. However, due to severe overlapping, it was difficult to analyze them clearly. Only one partial fingerprint could be partially restored without significant damage. Just as Lu Peng was at a loss about what to do with this half fingerprint, he received another call from Li Helin that morning.

After hanging up, he went to the investigation and prevention department. The department head had just developed a stack of photos—it turned out that while colleagues responsible for checking gunpowder residue were conducting their investigation, their team members had secretly photographed some tourists who appeared suspicious.

Lu Peng took the photos and spread them out on the table one by one. Most of the subjects in the photos matched the patterns they had identified over the years for underground operatives: middle-aged or young men, unremarkable in appearance but composed and calm, showing no panic in sudden chaotic situations.

Identifying the photographed individuals was the task of another team of recognition specialists. Every year, the Confidentiality Bureau collected photos of hundreds or even thousands of people—they could be negotiation representatives, businessmen, democratic activists, university students... All were photographed without their knowledge and stored in photo albums at the No.1 Archives of Honggongci, to be "identified" someday in the future.

"Also, verify these individuals' identities and backgrounds. Prioritize those related to banking or financial institutions and submit them to me first," Lu Peng instructed, issuing the next step in their search for clues.