My Third Empire

Five Hundred and One Deception

Greif felt that something was wrong when he was at the wine table. After years of lurking, his keen sense detected a cold breath in the air. This kind of omen before the advent of danger has not appeared for a long time. I vaguely remember the last time it was When something happened to Gray Wolf.

He refused Louis' persuasion, pretended to be drunk, said goodbye, said he needed to go to the bathroom, and then flashed out of the room through the back door of the bar. In the alley at the back door, he adjusted his walking speed and walked quickly to his apartment.

Destroy the code book, destroy the telegraph! This was what Poison Greif had in mind. As long as the evidence was destroyed, he would be able to escape and safely avoid everyone's suspicion. At this time, he must not be confused, but calm and calm. If he escapes directly, he will definitely be caught in Canada, and there is no other possibility.

When he walked near his apartment, Greif felt that he was about to be out of danger, so he quickened his already hasty pace. As long as the evidence was destroyed, even if he was seriously suspected, as long as he didn't reveal his flaws , you can save your life.

When he reached the street corner, he stopped suddenly, because he saw that the beggar in front of the apartment had disappeared, and the beggar who he had to pay every day was not standing where he should be standing today. Greif was taken aback for a moment, he knew that he had indeed been exposed, and that his apartment had also been occupied by British intelligence personnel.

With a wry smile, Greve had no choice but to bite the bullet and continue walking. He stood at the crossroads and found a beggar not far away reaching out to passers-by for money. While asking for money, the beggar gradually approached Greve who was dodging the car.

Covered by a bus, Greve couldn't see the windows of his house, and just at this moment, the beggar walked up to him and stretched out his palm to Greve. The classic line "All right", was replaced with a simple and clear vocabulary: "Give it to me!"

Greif's hand had already reached into his pocket, and at this moment he took out a small and exquisite notebook, and directly stuffed it into the beggar who came up. The eyes of the two people looked at each other for a moment, and then they distanced themselves from each other.

The bus passed by, and the British agent leaning against the curtain saw the picture of a beggar chasing Greve for money, and Greve waved his hand, rejecting the dirty poor man. He seemed too anxious to get home to deal with his radio and codebook, no time for a beggar.

Soon Greif crossed the road and walked to the door of his room. He smiled and took out a small pistol from the inner pocket of his clothes, and then opened the door of his room with the key.

He knew that he must die here today, in this enemy's land. My soul will never return to my hometown for the rest of my life, and no one will know about all the contributions I have made to the motherland in the future.

In order to protect the entire German spy network in Canada and even the United States, he cannot escape or be captured alive. There was a moment when he thought of betraying Germany and becoming a double agent for the United Kingdom or the United States, but he remembered that he had issued a letter under the national flag. The oath—the flag of the Weimar Republic was still the flag of the Weimar Republic, but now it is the swastika flag, how time flies.

It was really lively in the room. There were several British agents. He took advantage of the situation and shot, but he missed any target at all. The bullet hit the sofa, made a big hole and knocked out the cotton crumbs inside.

If I knew it earlier, I should have practiced more marksmanship. Greif smiled wryly in his mind. Civilian spies are not like what many people imagined. They murder and set fire to steal information, and they can even fly over walls—is Captain America wearing a suit, codenamed 007?

The vast majority of spies are actually very simple. They may be a clerk of a certain agency or an amiable old man. The information provided by these people needs to be analyzed and processed. Of course, if these people reveal their identities, they often have nothing to protect themselves. In order to survive, they go to jail and cry desperately, often betraying their original organization in order to survive.

So don't envy any spies. You can catch a lot of such people in real life. Life is not exciting at all, and the process is not romantic at all. They may ride a bicycle with a broken schoolbag and put a fool camera in it to become enemy spies to spy on the military situation, and then sell the information of 3 tons of soybean oil hoarded in a certain military camp that may be distributed for the new year to hostile forces abroad Influence - the reward can be 50, maybe 100, so do you still yearn for the spy job?

Greif, who missed any target with one shot, was pinned down by a hand protruding from behind the door, and he had no chance to shoot again. As a veteran spy, he also knew that if he didn't die at this time, what awaited him was boundless destruction and abuse.

The lower jaw was hard, and the glass container of potassium cyanide under the tongue was crushed when going upstairs, and an unpleasant taste appeared in the mouth. Greif suddenly felt that he could write a novel in his life. For more than ten years, he has lived in an environment full of enemies in the streets for more than ten years. Who knows how many thrilling stories he has experienced during this period?

"Spit it out!" The British agent, who had already pinned Greve to the ground, looked at Greve in horror, his facial expression began to contort rapidly, and shouted loudly: "He has taken poison! Quickly put his mouth Pry open for rescue!"

"It's too late! This smell is potassium cyanide!" The standing British agent frowned and looked at Greif whose legs were still twitching on the floor, and sighed. This old man used to be a relative of British meritorious service, and many nobles knew him. The key point is that this old man is over sixty years old, and it is inevitable that he died like this now.

Greif finally lay motionless on the ground, and the British agent who was pressing on him stood up helplessly. After all, he didn't like pressing a man's corpse. This time the capture work was not going well, and the target committed suicide successfully, so the follow-up interrogation work can only be done without it.

"This guy has a code book and a radio station, which means that this person is very important in their network. It may be a contact node, or it may be the highest commander. The Intelligence Bureau has already contributed a lot to being able to catch such a big fish .” This is the evaluation of this operation by the current Prime Minister of the United Kingdom. He feels that with this operation, at least most of the German spy operations in Canada can be hit.

His analysis does make sense, because if an important figure in a spy network is arrested, the network will not be activated again for a short time. After all, no one dares to take the risk easily, who knows if the exposed person will confess himself? In addition, the intelligence network that has lost trust will no longer have useful news, because these messages cannot be used as a reference because they cannot be used as a reference.

At the crossroads, the beggar was sitting alone, reaching out to the passing British agents for begging, with a broken hat in front of him, looking pitiful. The British agent carried Greve's body past him. Old Greve's distorted face made him run away in fright. This panicked behavior amused the British intelligence agents who were on guard.

"Ding Dong." Before getting into the car, a broken British agent threw a penny coin of the smallest denomination into the broken hat in front of the beggar, and it hit several coins that were already inside, making a crisp sound.

Then there was the roar of the car engine, and one car after another left here, as if nothing happened.

The beggar watched these people leave, and then got up and walked in another direction. He walked very casually, and even reached out to beg for each passer-by. He just disappeared all the way at the end of the road. No one would have thought that after this walk, he would never appear here again.

Back in his dimly lit cabin, he pulled out a small radio from a corner. Germany's Siemens Electronics Technology Department has worked hard on the topic of radio miniaturization in recent years. Now the radio stations used by German agents are only the size of a folded chess board, which is very easy to carry and hide.

He turned on the radio equipment and sent the news of Poison's death back to Berlin. Then he turned off his radio and looked at the small notebook that Poison left him with the list in code words by candlelight.

This is the spy network that Poison has developed over the years, and this network can be said to be the achievement of Poison Greve's life. Now this achievement is handed over to the beggar, who is responsible for taking over the network and continuing to operate it, and even expand it if possible. They are people who live on the tip of a knife, and the fear of death hangs over their heads all the time, but every day when the sun rises, life will continue without interruption.

Sighing, the beggar closed his notebook. The spy network Greif left behind was too large, and taking over was definitely not something that could be done in a day or two. It seems that the British really took advantage this time. The intelligence work of the German army behind enemy lines in Canada will be paralyzed for at least half a year.

Putting the notebook written in secret language into the drawer, the moment the drawer was closed, the beggar paused. He saw a cardboard box in the corner, so he reached out and took out the box.

Open the box that has been worn out a lot, and inside is a small iron pipe about two centimeters long and one centimeter in diameter that resembles a bullet casing. The small iron tube protected the glass container inside, which contained enough potassium cyanide to kill him dozens of times.

The beggar thought of the distorted and painful face he saw on the poison—it turned out that this was the end of eating this thing.

Chapter 511/1257
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My Third EmpireCh.511/1257 [40.65%]