Chapter 101: Fronte's Discovery

The fabric of the jacket was from Bugika, the shoes were suede leather, and the belt was made of cowhide—typical Soviet military-issued products. Even his speech carried a certain caviar-like flavor.

Caviar—Zhou Sen only ate it occasionally. But as a true Chinese, that taste was something he simply couldn’t accept.

Occasional tasting was fine, but having it every day was unbearable, especially now that Zhou Sen’s sense of smell was particularly sharp, making him even more sensitive to the caviar’s aroma.

“Mr. Front, would you like some tea? I only have tea and coffee here—no vodka,” Zhou Sen greeted.

“Coffee, please,” Front replied.

“Alright.”

Zhou Sen took out a tin of coffee beans from the cabinet, scooped two spoonfuls, and put them into the manual grinder.

“Zhou Sen, Mr. Front graduated top of his class from the Soviet Far East Special Police Academy. From today onward, besides assisting you in searching for the list of infiltrators, he will also be your dedicated special training instructor,” Anna introduced.

“What? He’s my special training instructor?” Zhou Sen slowed his hands and looked up in surprise.

“Yes. Officially, you’ll attend special training at the police academy, but in reality, you just need to check in, and Mr. Front will conduct comprehensive training for you!” Anna explained.

“Is this really necessary?” Zhou Sen muttered to himself. It wasn’t that he feared hardship, but given how meticulously the Japanese had planned, he suspected there might be a larger conspiracy at play.

“Whether it’s necessary or not isn’t up to you,” Anna said firmly.

“Alright, then when does it start?” He truly needed someone to teach him now—it was like sleep bringing a pillow to his head.

“First, we have to find the list—it’s the foundation of all operations,” Anna said. “Front and I will accompany you to your home for a thorough security inspection.”

“I’ve already searched my home thoroughly; there’s no list there.”

“What you think of as a list might just be a small booklet. But to you, it may not even appear as such. An agent can transform any object into an information carrier. Only experienced people can recognize such things,” Anna explained.

“Mr. Front, do you speak Chinese?”

“Yes,” Front nodded. “I also speak Japanese—reading, writing, and conversation are no problem.”

“That’s impressive. I think we should communicate in Chinese from now on; I’m more accustomed to it,” Zhou Sen said.

“Anna, has Mr. Front familiarized himself with my situation?”

“Zhou Sen, orphaned at ten, adopted by Anthony Robin and renamed Vasim, heir to the ‘Priest,’” Front smiled slightly, speaking before Anna could.

Zhou Sen coughed twice. “Calling me the ‘Priest’s heir’ is a bit much. I know nothing about Anthony’s secrets or his covert activities. You’re forcing me into this.”

“But no one is more suitable than you,” Front said. His Chinese, though fluent, still carried a slight accent.

“You killed the wrong person. You can’t just drag me out to take their place. Besides, I’m Manchurian—why would those infiltrators trust me?”

“Don’t say that. Since Mr. Shibuya chose you, consider it your honor. Completing this mission is your duty—you have no right to refuse!” Anna said coldly.

Zhou Sen’s face darkened. There was no arguing with that. He sighed deeply.

Glug, glug...

As steam billowed, a rich aroma of coffee filled the room. Both Front and Anna were drawn to the scent.

“I prefer black coffee—bitter but aromatic. Please, both of you,” Zhou Sen offered.

“I’m used to adding milk and sugar, but this black coffee has its own unique flavor,” Front said. “It reminds me of an unforgettable experience.”

“Looks like you know your drinks,” Anna took a sip. “Such premium coffee beans are rare even in Bingcheng.”

“I’m just a simple man—good food, beautiful women, a comfortable life, and a touch of culture. That’s all,” Zhou Sen said.

“That’s the life I aspire to, too. But ideals and reality are often far apart, Vasim. If you want all that, you must work hard for it. There’s no free lunch in this world,” Front said thoughtfully.

“Yes, I agree. Perhaps that’s the truth of life’s disappointments.”

“Vasim, thank you for the coffee, but I must complete my mission,” Front said, setting down his cup.

“Alright, I guess I don’t have a choice,” Zhou Sen shrugged helplessly.

...

“Irina, this is Miss Anna, my friend, and this is Mr. Front, a friend of Anthony. He came from Fengtian with news about Anthony,” Zhou Sen introduced.

“I’m sorry, but I bring unfortunate news,” Front said sadly. A true elite trained by the Cheka, there was no hint of acting in his expression.

Irina immediately sensed something amiss. When Front revealed that Anthony Robin had died in a car accident in Fengtian after failed resuscitation, the woman who had cared for Anthony for over a decade couldn’t bear the shock and fainted.

The three hurriedly carried Irina inside, laid her on the sofa, pinched her philtrum, and applied cold water to her face.

Finally, she slowly regained consciousness but remained semi-conscious.

Zhou Sen called for an ambulance. Soon, a city hospital vehicle arrived and took her away.

Zhou Sen didn’t follow but sent Anna with the ambulance.

With Irina gone, they could search the entire house without involving her. Zhou Sen didn’t want her to get entangled.

Front proved to be a consummate professional, searching every nook and cranny without missing a single crack or crevice where something could be hidden.

Kitchen cabinets, the bathroom cistern, the living room sofa, dining table, flower vase—even the feather duster.

Finally, they found the storage room in the hallway.

The hidden chamber behind it couldn’t escape Front’s notice. When he opened it, even he was startled.

But he already knew Anthony Robin’s identity. That Anthony had a workshop for modifying guns at home and had hidden a small arsenal wasn’t surprising.

As for the Tokarev 1926 pistol and its ammunition, Zhou Sen had already moved them elsewhere—he had to keep a trump card.

Weapons were tricky. It was a pity if all were confiscated here; if only they could be handed to the anti-Japanese resistance. Unfortunately, he had no connections.

Moreover, it would be difficult to transport them unnoticed—he himself was under Japanese surveillance. How could he possibly sneak a pistol out?

Of course, Zhou Sen looked genuinely shocked, even stammering as he spoke.

Front’s expression turned pleased.

The biggest find on the first floor was the hidden small arsenal in the storage room, but it lacked the item they sought.

The second floor was Anthony’s and Zhou Sen’s resting quarters, including a small reception room, Anthony’s study, and two bedrooms—one for each. Their rooms weren’t connected, so they didn’t disturb each other.

They started with the study—Anthony’s private space, off-limits to Zhou Sen. It was the easiest place to hide secrets.

Zhou Sen didn’t interfere but sat by the door, watching Front meticulously search. He passed over obvious spots at a glance.

Soon, Front discovered a secret behind an oil painting on the wall and found the mechanism. But Front’s excitement was short-lived.

Zhou Sen told him that Anthony’s partner, Ivanovich, had already discovered this secret and taken the contents. He didn’t know what was inside and hadn’t asked.

Front was skeptical but, seeing Zhou Sen’s calm demeanor, and with his experience, believed he was not lying.

Lies like that couldn’t be concealed; a simple inquiry with Ivanovich would clarify everything.

Did Ivanovich find anything in the box? Of course. Zhou Sen wouldn’t leave an empty box; that would only raise suspicion he had already taken the contents.

So, he had placed Anthony’s favorite smoking pipe inside.

Ivanovich must have been quite surprised to find that pipe. The reason he didn’t come back looking was probably because someone warned him.

They flipped through every book but found nothing unusual. Then they opened the safe in the study.

Upon seeing the valuables inside, Front’s eyes gleamed greedily. Zhou Sen noticed and realized that these cash and valuables couldn’t remain at home—they needed a safer place.

Fortunately, he had a woman now. Leaving them with Bai Yulan would be safer than at home.

The Japanese could easily infiltrate the study, install bugs, and steal gold bars and silver coins from the safe—it was a simple matter for them.

Besides an empty secret compartment, nothing else was found in the study.

Next came Anthony’s bedroom, Zhou Sen’s bedroom, and the small reception room.

After searching thoroughly, they found nothing.

Finally, Front noticed the small attic where the cat’s nest was.

“Vasim, may we see the attic?” Front asked, pointing to the stairs leading up.

“Of course. But it’s my cat’s nest. I don’t know what kind of mess the little rascal has made up there. She’s quite mischievous,” Zhou Sen said without hesitation.

Lucy, the cat, hadn’t appeared since they returned. Who knows where she had gone—perhaps on a secret rendezvous with her lover?

Zhou Sen led Front upstairs.

“The attic door is locked, but there’s a small cat door on it for her to come and go. We rarely go in—maybe once or twice a month if we remember to clean,” Zhou Sen said, running his hand over the doorframe, picking up dust along with a key.

“See? The key is right here, covered in dust.”

Zhou Sen opened the door, and a foul odor immediately assaulted their nostrils.

“Lucy, you little beast, who told you to drag a dead rat into our home...”