Chapter 13: Dealing with Money
"Yesterday, I met them, and they mentioned that intelligence costs 15,000 francs per report."
Zhou Lin tapped the coffee table with his fingers. "I need information on three aspects, each costing 15,000 francs. Three reports would total 45,000 francs. That's a substantial amount. I need to report this upstairs."
"Good! I'll wait for your message!"
Zhou Lin returned to his room, made a slight change to his appearance, and left the butcher shop.
This time, no one from Oshima was tailing him.
Sato was confirmed, so there was no need for further surveillance. Revealing it to Sato could lead to trouble.
After leaving, Zhou Lin took the electric railcar, finding a seat conveniently at the back.
He boarded the railcar suddenly to catch potential followers off guard.
No one was running after him.
Once Zhou Lin was on the train, the doors closed, and there was no one getting on behind him.
This indicated that there were no trackers or they had been shaken off.
Sitting in the car, he gazed at the scenery outside, contemplating how to make contact.
Yes, contact.
In Sato's retrospective footage, a Japanese officer instructed him on the procedure.
"If acquiring intelligence requires a significant amount of money, follow these steps..."
The Japanese were meticulous, each step interconnected but independent. In case of trouble, it wouldn't affect the entire chain.
Following the address from the footage, Zhou Lin arrived at an old street.
The entrance of the street had been repainted.
However, the freshly painted white walls were covered in various doodles.
Some were children's drawings, others were more mischievous. The wall looked like a graffiti canvas.
This place was where Zhou Lin was supposed to make contact.
Not with a person but by showcasing his artistic skills.
Zhou Lin found a broken piece of tile and approached the wall.
Glancing around discreetly, he noticed no one paid attention. Perhaps graffiti was common here.
Zhou Lin reached the left corner of the wall, less adorned due to its higher position.
On tiptoes, he raised his hand and, at the highest point on the wall, created a painting.
A turtle crawling, with a river in front. The river branched into three.
After finishing, Zhou Lin stepped back, admiring his masterpiece from a distance.
While appreciating his work, he became the object of someone else's admiration.
A woman in her thirties, on the second floor of a nearby building, observed the wall through binoculars.
Seeing Zhou Lin's painting, she dialed a number.
"He's here!"
A man on the other end asked, "Is it a turtle or a snake?"
"A turtle."
"How many branches are in the river?"
"Three."
After hanging up, the man went to a bookshelf, found a book, went to the basement, and sent a telegram.
Soon, he received a response.
After reading the telegram, he burned it. It contained a phone number, a name, and a coded message.
If Zhou Lin saw it, he would recognize it.
The phone number was for a public phone next to the butcher shop, a paid one.
The written name was Huang Yunfa, Oshima's current alias.
The man left, drove three miles, and arrived at a public phone booth.
Someone was using it, but seeing another person, he quickly spoke a few words and hung up.
Acknowledging the newcomer, the person using the phone left.
The man entered the booth, closed the door, and dialed a number.
A woman's voice answered, "Who are you looking for?" in a Shanghai accent.
"I'm looking for Huang Yunfa."
"Fat guy? Okay, wait, I'll call him."
Oshima sat inside the butcher shop's entrance, watching the street with no business.
The neighboring shop owner called, "Fat guy, your call."
Oshima, hearing the phone, hesitated.
Could it be a call from Sato?
Oshima immediately left and went to the adjacent convenience store.
The store owner pointed to the phone and said, "A man called. You answer; I'll check the kitchen."
Oshima nodded, walked over, and picked up the phone.
"I'm Huang Yunfa. Are you Mr. Zuo?"
Oshima preemptively spoke.
The voice on the other end wasn't Sato's.
"Mr. Huang, how many pounds was the small yellow croaker you caught last month?"
Oshima was surprised; it was a long-unused code.
When Oshima came to China, someone told him that if someone approached him and said this code, they were a superior sent by the organization. He just had to answer truthfully.
Oshima replied, "The big yellow croaker you mentioned weighed eight pounds, eight Liang, and eight qian."
The code matched.
The person asked, "Did guests come to your home?"
"Yes, guests from my hometown, here for business."
"How is the business going?"
"Negotiated, but it lacks a bit of money."
"How much is lacking?"
"We negotiated for the purchase of three shipments of fish, each ship for 15,000."
"Oh, I see. When your friend returns, ask him to go to the place of his turtle; there will be a clue."
After saying that, the person hung up.
Hearing the tone, Oshima put down the receiver.
Afterward, he took a nickel from his pocket and placed it next to the phone.
"Boss put the money on the table. I'm leaving."
The shop owner rushed out, collected the money from the table, and saw Oshima entering the butcher shop.
An hour after Oshima returned to the butcher shop, Zhou Lin came back as well.
Oshima took Zhou Lin to the backyard and said, "Someone called me today."
Then, Oshima briefed Zhou Lin on the situation.
Zhou Lin immediately grasped the situation.
This was likely an inquiry from the Japanese side, confirming Oshima's identity.
The turtle represented Sato, and the three branches indicated the third point within Sato's scope – Oshima.
By painting, Zhou Lin essentially informed them about his identity and current location.
Zhou Lin asked, "Did he say anything else?"
Oshima said, "He told you to go to the turtle. Sato-kun, who is the turtle?"
Zhou Lin couldn't reveal the truth, so he replied, "The turtle is my contact. To get the money, I have to go find the turtle."
Oshima, excited, asked eagerly, "When are you going to get the money?"