Chapter 15: Susanna

No matter how much Zhou Sen tried to explain his own unsuitability, Akiyama-no-Suke remained unmoved—the case had to remain in his hands. This was not merely a matter of forcing a duck onto the perch, but rather of pressing a stubborn ox’s head down into the trough to drink against its will.

Zhou Sen understood that if he were to confront Akiyama-no-Suke head-on, he could easily find himself locked away. The Japanese arrested, detained, or even executed people at their whim, without the slightest regard for reason. If they truly made him “disappear,” he would have no means of resistance. The “Unit 731” was stationed just on the outskirts of Bingcheng, after all.

The investigation had to go on.

Still, Zhou Sen managed to glean some information from Akiyama’s words: his sudden promotion, for instance, was somehow connected to Old Father Anthony. Astonishingly, Old Father Anthony had gone on a secret mission for the Japanese. What mission it was, Akiyama refused to say, nor would he reveal whether it had ended successfully or if some incident had occurred. Unable to reward Old Father Anthony directly, had the Japanese simply bestowed the reward upon Zhou Sen? It wasn’t impossible. On the surface, Old Father Anthony was merely a White Russian businessman, holding no official post.

Moreover, Old Father Anthony had arranged for Zhou Sen to attend the police academy and to enter the Bingcheng police force, which seemed to suggest he had his own plans. Could it be that Zhou Sen’s predecessor had a special mission as well? Yet, in his memories, there was no hint of such a thing.

Leaving Akiyama’s office, Zhou Sen pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat from his brow. This gesture was in line with his persona at the precinct. He had changed too much in the last two days; both Old Six and Third Son had noticed, and he had to remain cautious.

But should he really maintain this “cowardly” facade? A little indignity was bearable, but to be a constant scapegoat was too much.

“Zhou Sen?”

“Chief Song…” The speaker was Song Pinyuan, head of the Security Division, a veteran connected to former Police Commissioner Jin.

Song Pinyuan had had a chance to move to the police headquarters, but he wasn’t interested and preferred a comfortable life at the Nangang Precinct. That night at the Ningxiang Pavilion, it was he who had encouraged Zhou Sen to indulge, which led to quite a bill—no wonder Zhou Sen hadn’t been able to pay even for a bowl of lamb noodles afterwards; his pockets had been completely emptied.

“So, how have you been? Haven’t seen you these past two days. Were you satisfied with the arrangements I made for you that night?” Song Pinyuan’s eyes glinted with a sly, teasing smile.

“Chief Song, I drank too much that night. When I woke up early the next morning, I couldn’t remember a thing,” Zhou Sen replied with a wry smile. He certainly couldn’t tell the truth, and Bai Yulan probably wouldn’t speak of it either. Naturally, he didn’t want others to know.

But, from Song Pinyuan’s tone, could it be that his encounter with Bai Yulan that night was related to him?

“Is that so?” Song Pinyuan chuckled, “Mr. Akiyama holds you in such high regard. Work hard—when you achieve great merit, it’ll bring honor to our Security Division too.”

“Chief Song, don’t tease me. You know my abilities. Without Old Six and Third Son helping me, I wouldn’t even manage as a patrol chief!” Zhou Sen replied sheepishly.

“You’re young and you know Japanese—that’s your advantage. Your future is limitless.” Song Pinyuan laughed, patted Zhou Sen’s shoulder, and walked away.

Zhou Sen knew that the Japanese were carrying out sweeping reforms in the police system. They wanted to phase out the old officers and promote a new generation of young police who had been trained and indoctrinated at Japanese-run academies and were fluent in Japanese. Their aim was to replace the older police and ensure total control over the security of Manchukuo.

As a result, friction between the old and new police ran high, from the central authority of the puppet regime down to local precincts. Song Pinyuan was one of the old guard, though he seemed uninterested in power.

In his previous life, Zhou Sen had had a decent relationship with Song Pinyuan; they often ate and drank together, though to call their bond ironclad would be an exaggeration.

Stepping out the precinct’s main gate, a blast of cold wind slipped down his collar, making Zhou Sen shiver and quickly pull his coat tighter.

“Boss…” Old Six came running over from a short distance away.

“Why aren’t you at the warehouse?” Zhou Sen accepted a cigarette from Old Six, lit it, and took a drag.

“I checked in, but when I heard Akiyama wanted to see you, I was worried, so I waited outside,” Old Six explained.

“Where’s Third Son?”

“He’s at the warehouse. Today’s his turn to patrol the streets; he can’t slack off every day,” Old Six replied.

“Alright, let’s go,” Zhou Sen said, stubbing out his cigarette.

“Boss, did you have a run-in with Old Cui?” Old Six asked as they walked.

“It was nothing. He was just venting with drink. Why should I take offense at a drunk’s nonsense?” Zhou Sen truly didn’t take Old Cui seriously. People who showed their feelings so openly were not much of a threat. It was the quiet ones who bore a grudge in silence that he had to watch out for; a single bite from them could cut to the bone.

“That’s just how Old Cui is—ambitious but incompetent, petty-minded, though not a bad person at heart…”

“No need to defend him. I’ve no intention of doing anything about him,” Zhou Sen said with a laugh. “Wasn’t today’s spectacle enough for him?”

“That’s true. But Boss, you really shouldn’t have said those things in the Security Division today,” Old Six remarked.

“What things?”

“You know, about how we have no say in our own promotions?” Old Six meant well.

“See through it, but don’t speak of it, Boss. If someone with an agenda stirs trouble, it could harm your prospects here.”

“Heh, but if I hadn’t said it in that situation, could I have gotten out unscathed?” Zhou Sen laughed it off. If it really came to that, he’d actually be glad—he’d rather have no prospects and go home for good.

…

The two returned to the warehouse on Haicheng Street.

Wuen was at the door, shoveling snow, having already cleared a passable path and sprinkling coarse salt to keep it from refreezing.

“Wuen, where is she?” Zhou Sen asked in surprise.

“She’s inside,” Wuen replied, sweating from his labor and down to just a thin inner layer of clothing.

“You left her alone in there?” Zhou Sen was speechless. This Susanna was very likely not an ordinary woman, and yet Wuen had just left her alone in the warehouse. The man was utterly simpleminded!

Old Six, now aware of Susanna’s presence, shook his head at Wuen. Unless given direct orders, this guy would never use his head.

“Officer Zhou,” Susanna stood as Zhou Sen entered, holding an enamel mug.

“Miss Susanna, please sit. We have no formalities here, make yourself at home,” Zhou Sen said with a smile, hanging up his coat.

“This is Gu Mosheng, Officer Gu. He’s the sixth in his family—just call him Old Six.”

“Officer Gu, hello.” Susanna nodded slightly, her Chinese surprisingly fluent.

“Hello, Miss Susanna,” Old Six replied politely.

“Old Six, let’s have roast potatoes for lunch, with some scallions and fermented bean paste,” Zhou Sen said, noticing a pile of potatoes in the corner.

“Boss, you never eat scallions with bean paste,” Old Six said, a bit taken aback, then smiled—he realized Zhou Sen was just making an excuse to send him away.

“It’s good to change things up once in a while!”

“Alright.” Old Six agreed cheerfully, grabbed a basket, picked out a dozen potatoes, and left.

“Miss Susanna, can you tell me about your relationship with Editor Shchelkin?” Zhou Sen asked as he poured hot water into her mug.

Susanna looked nervous, gripping the mug tightly and lowering her head. “I met Shchelkin about half a year ago at Dalbonk Bank, just after I’d been hired. He was a journalist—knowledgeable, witty, and I was drawn to him…”

At this, Susanna blushed, clearly recalling the sweetness of their early days together.

Shchelkin wasn’t very old. For a young woman, a mature, charming man like him was quite attractive. His fondness for strong drink wasn’t considered a vice among Russian girls; perhaps a Chinese girl would have hesitated.

But from Susanna’s account, Zhou Sen heard of a Shchelkin unlike the one described at the Songjiang Daily.

“Miss Susanna, to your knowledge, did Mr. Shchelkin have any enemies?” Zhou Sen asked after hearing about their acquaintance and romance.

Susanna thought for a moment. “He sometimes criticized the Soviets in his articles and was reported and warned by the Soviet Consulate, but aside from that, I don’t think he offended anyone.”

“The Soviet Consulate warned him?”

“I heard him say that someone had sent him threatening letters, and once even a bullet in an envelope,” Susanna replied.

“In that case, Mr. Shchelkin may have offended Soviet agents operating in Bingcheng. That complicates the case—by procedure, matters involving Soviet espionage are beyond our precinct and must be reported to the Police Bureau, which will ultimately hand it over to another department. The outcome is uncertain,” Zhou Sen said.

“What should I do, Officer Zhou? Will they come after me too—will they kill me?” Susanna asked anxiously.

“That’s unlikely. You only dated Shchelkin for a while; you weren’t married. Besides, this is Bingcheng—the Soviets can’t just kill people with impunity. Don’t worry, we police protect all law-abiding citizens,” Zhou Sen assured her.

“Really?”

“Of course. But the premise is that you must tell us the truth. If you deliberately lie or conceal anything, you’ll bear the consequences yourself.” Zhou Sen made his warning clear—he was only half-convinced by Akiyama’s suspicion that Susanna was a Soviet agent.

If her identity had been certain, she would have been arrested immediately, not left to “coincidentally” run into him on the street.

This woman didn’t seem to have the seasoned air of an experienced spy. Throughout the questioning, Zhou Sen watched her expressions, demeanor, and body language, but found nothing unusual.

Perhaps he simply lacked the discernment to see through her.