Chapter 056: Problems Solved by Money

It’s over! The military police officer was quite experienced—he wasn’t buying Chen Jiehua’s story at all! Neither Chen Jiehua nor Miu Fujiwara were real diplomats; of course, they couldn’t have received diplomatic documents from the Japanese High Command. All they had were diplomatic passports issued by the consulate in Shanghai.

Diplomatic documents? What a joke, Chen Jiehua thought.

He hadn’t even considered arranging a fake set of diplomatic papers back in New York.

“Our diplomatic credentials are for the United States. Our business there is finished, and since we have some time, we thought we’d visit a friend in Leverkusen while we’re here.”

Chen Jiehua obediently handed over both his and Miu Fujiwara’s passports, but his voice had dropped. Damn it, there’s nothing else for it—I’ll just admit defeat for now and hope they let us go.

Negotiating with inspectors was like playing on a seesaw: you had to match wits and nerve. If you spoke loudly, they’d get quiet. If you were quiet, they’d raise their voices!

“Visiting a friend privately? Without diplomatic documents, this isn’t diplomatic business! These two are highly suspicious—take them away!”

“You! Go find your luggage with him!”

Chen Jiehua glanced outside at the dozens of armed coast guards and Abbeville military police. Damn, no way to run. He could only give in for now, signaling to Miu Fujiwara with his eyes while following an officer to retrieve their suitcases.

Why did this situation feel so unfamiliar? Was the Japanese diplomatic passport really so useless?

Meanwhile, the coast guard had already discovered smuggled goods. Clearly, their intelligence was accurate—they were counting up the contraband but hadn’t yet found the suitcases. Fujiwara’s suitcase, being a Japanese make, stood out among the others—easy to spot.

Chen Jiehua and Miu Fujiwara were escorted by three military police up to the dock, their suitcase in the officer’s hands.

Before reaching the dock, the officers, perhaps judging Chen Jiehua as more dangerous, tied him up with rope, placing a guard on either side. But they treated Miu Fujiwara much more courteously: no rope, no handcuffs, just a single officer with her—after all, she looked so demure.

Fine, you’ll regret this. Once the fighting starts, you’ll see just how formidable she is.

But the real question was: where would they take them? For interrogation? In this situation, there would certainly be chances to escape later on; if necessary, taking out one or two officers wouldn't be an issue. But their passports were under their real names—they had to get them back!

Sigh, so inexperienced, so careless!

While the two of them whispered in Japanese, the Abbeville military police finished screening the passengers, bringing the suspicious ones up to the dock one by one. The rest, having passed inspection, were allowed to collect their luggage and disembark.

Amid the crowd, a Western man with a prominent nose and sharp features walked past Chen Jiehua, suitcase in hand, glancing back at Miu Fujiwara!

What are you looking at? Never seen an Eastern beauty before?

Wait a minute—that deep gaze, that familiar feeling! He’s one of us! Damn, there really are spies here! The German Federal military police aren’t so impressive after all—let the real one slip away and caught a bunch of small fry!

But then again, he and Miu Fujiwara were spies too! Chen Jiehua could sense the difference between himself and the others now.

Still, it wasn’t his job to tip off the authorities—that was basic professional etiquette.

Chen Jiehua and Miu Fujiwara were at the front of a line of a dozen suspects, following two officers, flanked on both sides by more police—no chance to escape.

The real issue: their passports were with that junior officer, who was at the end of the line.

Following behind, Chen Jiehua continued murmuring in Japanese to Miu Fujiwara, discussing their options.

Judging by the situation, their interrogation site must be nearby; otherwise, they’d have loaded them into trucks already.

They could not let themselves be taken inside for questioning. A wise man avoids standing under a crumbling wall—this had to be resolved before they crossed that threshold!

“Aoki, here’s my thought—let’s not do anything rash. Even if we escape now, life in Germany would be impossible for us. Why not let them verify our identities with home?”

“What if they play dumb and refuse? An overseas call isn’t so easy to make. Besides, I don’t want High Command to know we’re in the Weimar Republic. If they find out, they’ll start asking questions—too many variables.”

“You two, stop talking!” One of the officers gave Chen Jiehua a shove, warning him.

Chen Jiehua had guessed correctly: the group walked slowly for about fifteen minutes before arriving at the Bremen port checkpoint. The whole way, there had been no good chance to run.

Fortunately, the checkpoint had no interrogation chambers. The junior officer divided everyone into small rooms. Chen Jiehua and Miu Fujiwara were put together, with their suitcase brought in for inspection.

Following instructions, Miu Fujiwara opened her suitcase, stepped back, crouched, and stood—a perfect display of Japanese etiquette. On top: ordinary women’s clothing, including some recently purchased European-style lingerie from San Francisco.

The junior officer was fairly gentlemanly; he didn’t touch anything, just gestured for Miu to take out her clothes herself.

When the neat bundles of Reichsmarks emerged from beneath the clothes, the officer’s and his companion’s eyes lit up with unmistakable greed.

Chen Jiehua noticed this detail with delight. There was hope!

“Officers, is it possible for us to post monetary bail? You have our passports—you’ve seen our identities are genuine.”

“Monetary bail?” The junior officer understood the concept of bail well enough, though he’d never heard the term “monetary bail” specifically. But he grasped the meaning—he just wanted to know how much was on offer.

“Yes, monetary bail. We just want to keep enough for travel expenses. The rest is yours, as a gift for you and your colleague. We won’t say a word to anyone. All we need is our passports returned. We are indeed diplomats, just visiting a friend privately, which was admittedly improper. We really don’t want our superiors at home to find out.”

“You can even arrange for your colleague to escort us to the train station, if you wish.”

Chen Jiehua spoke plainly: the money was theirs, they’d keep quiet, and by accepting, the officer would have leverage over them. For further assurance, the officer could have his man accompany them to the train.

As for the official reason for release, that was easy: the two had been verified as diplomats, and there was nothing but clothes in the suitcase.

The junior officer and his colleague exchanged a glance and nodded.

There was hope! In these times of financial crisis, military police had little income. Such a tidy pile of Reichsmarks was a powerful temptation.

Seeing them nod, Chen Jiehua seized the moment, stepped forward, took eight bundles of cash from the suitcase, stacked them neatly on the table, and showed the empty suitcase to the officer, leaving just one bundle inside. The junior officer nodded in satisfaction.

This man was sensible—and besides, a Japanese couple was unlikely to be spies. What sort of spy traveled around with his wife, with neither weapons nor equipment?

The officer retrieved their passports and handed them back to Chen Jiehua.