274: Chapter 183: Monkey Tricks (4K2) 274: Chapter 183: Monkey Tricks (4K2) Sunday evening at half past six, as dusk fell, lights began to ignite within the houses big and small throughout London.
Over the inky Thames River, connecting Lambeth on the south bank with Charing Cross on the north, Waterloo Bridge was busy.
Everyone from gentlemen on tall horses to ladies in carriages, to sweat-soaked dockworkers in flannel blue overalls, to office clerks wearing gold-rimmed glasses and carrying their jackets over their arms, to groups of lower-class women pulling along tartan skirts and wearing headscarves as they hurried to buy discounted food before the Covent Garden market closed—people from all walks of life jostled along.
The bridge, a link in London’s transportation lifeline, saw the passing of every social stratum.
Here, one could witness the true appearance of London society.
Just half an hour spent here was enough to encapsulate the daily stories of Europe’s largest industrial city.
Among the dazzling variety of splendid transport, an ordinary public carriage with a black hood and sealed compartment seemed unremarkable.
Arthur, puffing on a pipe, sat inside the carriage.
He glanced out the window at the Thames River, reflecting the light of fishermen’s lamps, and surveyed the bridge named in honor of the Battle of Waterloo victory, which would later become famous for a romantic movie known as “Waterloo Bridge.” Updates are released by N0v3l.Fiɾe.net
However, he had no interest in appreciating the rich urban atmosphere at that moment because tonight’s series of events left no room for distraction.
In the darkness, Tom couldn’t make out Arthur’s face but could see only the glowing red embers that brightened and dimmed in the dark.
In the silence, a puff of white smoke billowed out like a cloud, and Arthur’s voice, made slightly hoarse and deep by smoking, suddenly rang out.
“Tom, have you arranged everything I entrusted to you?”
Tom took Arthur’s question seriously and with due respect, and after such a long period of training, he was no longer the junior officer who months earlier, had been too nervous to stand at the bench in Magistrates’ Court.
The starlight of the night shone through the carriage window onto Tom’s shoulder, illuminating the insignia bearing three V-shaped stripes, the symbol of his current rank in the police service.
He was no longer a dispossessed peasant or a cobbler but Chief Inspector Tom Flanders.
A chief inspector had to act the part, so Tom shuffled through the papers in his hand, giving Arthur a formal report by the light of the moon, word by word.
“Regarding the Russian Embassy, Miss Fiona Ivan secured employment there by virtue of her rudimentary Russian and German along with her Russian heritage.
Based on her report from this morning, the embassy seems to have temporarily assigned her to a junior cleaning role.
However, I believe with Miss Ivan’s smart and quick-witted nature, she will soon get promoted.”
“As for tonight’s special operation against the Russian Embassy, as per your orders, it will be conducted by Chief Inspector Tony Eckhart of the LPS, Chief Inspector Charles Field, along with ordinary employee Alan Pinkerton.
The covert operation will be synchronized with the concert and initiated at exactly seven o’clock.
Pinkerton is in charge of the infiltration, Tony of driving and keeping watch, while Field is the mobile unit.”
“If the infiltration is successful, the operation team will withdraw according to the original plan and deliver the intelligence immediately to your residence at 36 Lancaster Gate following the concert’s conclusion tonight.”
“If the infiltration fails and Pinkerton is caught on the spot by the embassy, Miss Ivan will signal us.
Upon receiving the signal, Chief Inspector Field will lead a team to intervene, claiming that a thief the police have been pursuing has infiltrated the embassy grounds.”
“If the embassy releases him as normal, we will proceed with the usual prosecution of Pinkerton and arrange a suitable prison cell for him to reduce the embassy’s suspicions.
If they do not release him, the subsequent action might require your involvement.”
In the darkness, Tom saw the glowing ember move up and down, then in the pitch black, he saw a pair of eyes flickering with a faint red light and realized Arthur had been closing his eyes all along.
While Tom had always been curious as to why Arthur’s eyes occasionally glowed red and had asked him about this oddity, Arthur would joke with him, claiming to have ‘pink eye.’
Even though Tom didn’t know whether Arthur genuinely had an eye condition, through their close association over the past year, he understood profoundly that whenever that red light appeared in Arthur’s eyes, it meant he was serious.
Arthur slowly put on his gloves, then reached out and compared the length of his hands against the window edge.
The inspector’s white gloves, issued standard by Scotland Yard, were exquisite without a single flaw.
The gloves tightly enveloped his hands, calloused from frequently handling a policeman’s truncheon—slender and beautiful as if they were meant to play the piano.
“Let’s hope their operation goes smoothly tonight.
If we miss tonight’s chance, we won’t find a better opportunity during the London conference.
Time is short, and the tasks are critical.
Whether LPS can prove its worth hinges on tonight.”
With that, Arthur’s words came to a halt, and he smiled at Tom: “Tom, isn’t this work more enjoyable than standing guard at Scotland Yard?”