Wesley street is a top-down street.
One end of the street is connected with the central North area of the old district surrounded by three mountains and full of rich people, and the other end is connected with the vibrant and low altitude industrial south area of the new district.
The flagstone Westley street is connected between the two, from high to low, like coming from heaven to the world.
The street is bustling.
Down the steps, there are three or four floors of exquisite small buildings on both sides of the street. There is a huge gap between the rooms, with flower beds along the buildings, beautifying the cobweb like alleys.
The structures of houses are mostly similar.
Open a shop on the first floor and live up. Although it is impossible to live many people, considering the needs of accommodation, the necessary guest rooms can not be careless.
The type of shop is also very boring. There are many restaurants, many cafes, hotels and seasonal fruits and vegetables in the middle occasionally, and then there are flower shops and bookstores with plump hearts.
They only serve the rich in the north.
Art, music, beauty and space are all daily pursuits that must be considered, and only practicality can come second. After all, the distinction between expensive and cheap is external, and their pursuit should also be external.
Customers'' needs create monstrous streets. The closer they are to the North District, the more spacious they are. The door of each store is filled with flower beds and umbrellas.
The good four car Avenue is crowded into a two car path. The carriage is unwilling to pass through Wesley street and walks on the sheep''s intestines path. The coachman will always be unable to suppress the terrible illusion of being claimed.
At two o''clock in the afternoon, Seager knocked on the door of the tavern at the entrance of Wesley''s street. Three light and one heavy, not slow.
She was soon welcomed into the room and stood in front of a bald man with a small bag.
"Commander!" the bald man looked respectful and surprised. "I remember the major said you had an appointment today. It seems... It''s two o''clock?"
"Yes."
"Then why did you come here..."
"Because this is where I should come." sig went in, put down his bag and sat on the bench at the bar. "Dating is a battle between men and women, Borg. Especially when the date doesn''t know how to be punctual, no matter how late he is, I have to be 15 minutes later."
"Little Mr. Drake is late?" Borg suddenly realized. "Colonel, is it because you threw yourself into the air that you came to me?"
Seager was silent.
She looked suspiciously at Borg''s simple and honest face and tried her best to explain it easily.
But is there really such an explanation in the world? Seager was skeptical.
She sighed helplessly, "Borg, how many years have we worked for the royal secret service?"
"Since the last intelligence station was cracked, it has been officially transferred for seven years!"
"Seven years... You are also a lieutenant now."
"Depending on your trust, I was promoted to lieutenant when I took over the tavern last year. My brother also went to church school. My parents were very happy in the letter!"
"It has nothing to do with my trust." Seager smiled and waved his hands. "Ryan said you worked as a bartender in your hometown, which is very suitable for this position. But until he brought you to me, I always thought your name was hawker."
"Ah?"
"I''m the officer. It''s hard to remember your face, especially when you dress yourself up from time to time. The lead powder is more expensive than intelligence."
Borg hung his head shyly.
He had only been to Evelyn''s natural routine once. In order to achieve major Ryan''s regret of "completely pretending to be himself", he used public funds to dress himself up as a French gentleman.
The rest of life was the most expensive dress he had a matter of conscience. He remembered that powder was not the most expensive expense. The golden wig was still in his heart.
Colonel... It''s hard, isn''t it?
Borg was moved and ashamed: "Colonel, I''m sorry."
"Don''t apologize, Borg." Siegel jumped out of his chair and tiptoed to pat Borg on the shoulder. "You''re so honest. You''ll die one day in this business. So you should laugh more at ordinary times. Don''t force yourself to guess what you don''t understand. You''re very tired..."
……
Recently, there is a new term called "Democratic Republic". It seems to respect people''s freedom, but it actually puts a yoke on freedom, that is, a profitable democracy is success.
Human nature is to pursue profits. The pursuit of wealth, rights and security is the major premise of everything. Putting aside interests, everything is nonsense.
Because of this, the Republic is great. It puts on a holy coat for selfishness. Everyone can talk about desire with pride, and naturally advocate the greatness of sacrifice while pursuing profits.
"The only question is, who will sacrifice?"
In the room on the third floor of Lucas winery, Harry looked out of the street and said calmly to Ryan.
Their room has a perfect view, because under their feet is the boundary between Wesley''s going up and down the street.
The boundary is the last lane of the whole street from top to bottom. Houses are split here with a spacing of more than four meters and extend straight away. One side of the upper street is decorated with clean white fence, and the lower side is full of dirty garbage.
Ryan shook the bottle and belched happily: "is it an illusion? You''ve been more and more fond of guessing the Colonel''s mind in the past two years."
"Because mischief also needs to be reasonable," said Harry coldly. "I use a quarter of my staff and explicitly forbid any form of communication outdoors. Although it can be interpreted as a major intelligence transmission exercise, I still need to convince myself."
Ryan burst out laughing.
"Right? He''s always been a partner. The Colonel thinks little Drake will try to dig us out of the ground."
"I support the Colonel''s judgment on this point."
Ryan''s hand was frozen in the air: "what? Is there something hidden about this operation?"
"The lieutenant colonel is going to hide the whereabouts of the three pirates, isn''t he?" Harry looked back at Ryan. "Don''t think too great of some people. At the pier of Le Francois, little Drake first dismantled the coastal fort and then sent a ship to pick us up."
Le Francois''s bloody night is Ryan''s second tense memory in his life. The most tense is the confrontation with Pierce in the bunker of Haite shipyard, but it doesn''t matter, because no matter which time, he firmly believes that he is dead.
"You want to say that if there is a risk, little Drake will not hesitate to sell us?"
"This is certain. Just as the lieutenant colonel doesn''t want to be contaminated with the contradiction between little Drake and pirates, little Drake doesn''t want to take risks for England. But this is not the root of today''s confrontation."
"Not here?"
"They''re fighting for dominance," said Harry. "Now the dominance is in our hands. We''re in the dark and little Drake is in the light. We''ll tell him there''s no risk in the auction. Whether the information is true or false, he won''t fully believe it."
"He needs someone to help him in the same boat and we need to share the risk of sinking the ship, which requires us to master most of us. In this way, we have to do our best to collect intelligence, dig out all possible crises and help him prepare for everything. Because we believe that once he is caught, we will be exposed in the sun."
"A lieutenant colonel is bad enough. We have to deal with another jerk these days?" Ryan waved the bottle sadly and accidentally lifted the curtain in front of him.
Their hearts suddenly lifted up, the communication stopped in an instant, and the time waiting for the curtain to fall would be so long.
"That red haired woman is too hot!"
"Wearing men''s clothes, is it the master''s secretary?"
"Evil rich pig, it must be very comfortable to lie on her!"
"One latte, two puffs! Ha ha!"
A group of dirty children ran noisily under the window, which attracted Harry''s eyes. She just saw Katrina walking down the street with Lorraine in her arm.
The flutter of the curtains almost subsided
Harry gasped, followed Lorraine''s footsteps and examined everyone in the street.
"There are no suspicious people... If he wants to dig us out, he should have spread a lot of people on the street..."
"Maybe it''s all concentrated in the florist?"
Ryan wandered up to Harry, put up the shed and looked into the distance.
"Speaking of it, this observation post is really perfect. It can not only control most of the street, but also use the poor people in the South as a cover. Can little Drake think of it? Our people didn''t hide at all and just swaggered among the crowd."
"Don''t underestimate your opponent..."
Harry was talking when the closed door was suddenly knocked: "major, the report has been delivered."
Ryan strode open the door and reached for a scrawled wine list.
[two people attended the meeting. Lorraine Drake, male, dress, high hat, long umbrella, no weapons; Katrina dipo, female, red hair, men''s dress, short hat, wearing a long sword. There is no difference within 30 meters, and there is no guard.]
He shook his hand and handed the wine list to Harry: "very good information. The description is clear and concise, although we all saw it."
"We can''t see it every time." Harry quickly copied the information into a pure white stationery, folded it up, got up and took off his windbreaker and hat. "I''ll run and you''ll keep staring at the street."
Ryan raised the bottle: "do you know where to find the Colonel?"
"In front of the fountain in the municipal garden before two o''clock, in Borg''s Tavern after two o''clock." Harry lowered his head and put on his hat. "It''s two sixteen, probably... Borg is wondering why the Colonel went to him."