xymnovel Chapter 43 Chess Pieces and Chessboard
Chapter 43 Chess Pieces and Chessboard
Jonas quickly glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then pretended to drop something and bent down to pick up all the scraps of paper.
He unfolded the paper and carefully pieced it together. He found that there were no words on it at all, only a hastily drawn map, with a crooked route to the abandoned warehouse at the North District dock, and an X at the end.
Jonas's hands began to tremble.
This is simply a gift from God!
He slammed the two pence he had spent on drinks on the table, ignoring the person who had invited him, and stumbled out of the tavern, disappearing into the night.
As Jonas rushed out of the pub, he thought he saw a figure move behind the bar, but he didn't have time to think about it at the moment.
Behind the bar, the bearded owner nodded subtly to a corner in the shadows. "Seamus, that's enough."
……
Late at night, the North Wharf was filled with a salty sea breeze, and dark clouds completely obscured the moonlight.
Jonas hid behind the rotten wooden crate, the map tucked into his arms, his fingertips repeatedly stroking the bronze badge given to him by Gage's lieutenant's servant.
If I confirm the intelligence tonight, I can go to Adjutant Gage to collect fifty pounds of gold, pay off my gambling debts, and start a new life in the south.
As for the cause of freedom, I will silently pray for the sons of freedom in the South.
Soon, whale oil lamps suddenly lit up in the warehouse, their dim yellow light leaking out through the broken windows.
Jonas held his breath and saw two masked men carrying a wooden crate walk in, followed by two burly men.
One of them was Silas, who was struggling to pry open a wooden crate, inside which were several old smoothbore guns with rust on the barrels.
"With this junk? Do you think it can even make a sound?" Samuel's voice was full of disdain.
"Shh! Keep your voice down!" Silas snapped.
Silas wiped the butt of his rifle with an oilcloth, examining it repeatedly, muttering to himself, "It's good enough that we got this! This is key to our next operation! With these, the Concord militia can be armed!"
"The voice of freedom will finally ring out!"
Soon, another box was opened, containing stacks of crudely printed flyers. Perhaps the force used to open the box wasn't quite right, a few flyers fell to the ground.
Jonas had excellent eyesight and recognized the slogan on the flyer: "Give me liberty or give me death!"
The group lowered their voices and discussed amongst themselves, but Jonas, hiding to the side, couldn't hear them clearly.
Finally, Silas and the others worked together to lift a lump of iron covered in oil from the largest box.
"The pressure bar of the printing press! God, we finally got it!" Samuel's voice trembled with excitement.
"With this, we can print our own brochures and never have to put up with those greedy printers again!"
Jonas's heart was pounding in his chest.
Smoothbore guns, leaflets, printing press parts... these are all heinous crimes of betraying His Majesty the King!
He could almost see those fifty pounds of gleaming gold beckoning to him.
In the warehouse, Samuel picked up a few leaflets and said to Silas, "Alright, we have to go. Take these with us; we need to plaster them all over the area around the Old North Church tonight. Leave the heavy stuff here for now, and we'll send someone to take it away tomorrow."
"Be careful, don't get spotted by the patrol," Silas warned.
The group turned off their lights, filed out, and quickly disappeared at the other end of the alley.
The warehouse fell into darkness and deathly silence once again.
Jonas hid behind the wooden crate and waited for a long time until he was sure they were really gone before he finally breathed a long sigh of relief.
After losing for a month straight at the casino, he finally won this time, acquiring enough chips to ensure he would live comfortably for the rest of his life.
Jonas straightened his sticky bow tie, preparing to slip away from his hiding place to report the astonishing news to his new British master.
He froze the moment he turned around.
A tall figure suddenly appeared at the entrance of the alley.
The man wasn't wearing the scarlet uniform of a "Lobster Soldier," but rather the rough cloth clothes of a dockworker.
Moonlight peeked through the clouds, illuminating the man's burly, bear-like figure and the seemingly honest yet chilling expression on his face.
Jonas recognized the man; it was Seamus, the most capable bodyguard under the Easterner.
Jonas's heart sank.
He wanted to run, but his legs felt like they were made of lead and wouldn't obey him.
Seamus didn't say anything, he just walked towards him.
Behind him, more shadowy figures emerged from every corner of the alley, silently blocking all escape routes.
Jonas stood frozen in place, the shadows in the alley seemingly coming to life, constantly blocking every possible route he could think of.
Seamus simply raised his chin.
Two dockworkers dressed in coarse cloth came out from behind him and grabbed Jonas's arms on either side, so tightly that his shoulder blades cracked under the strain.
Jonas's legs went weak, and he was almost dragged along. A hot flow uncontrollably gushed out from his crotch.
Soon, Jonas was taken into a dilapidated warehouse filled with sacks.
Seamus dragged over a wooden crate, sat down, and pointed to a bundle of dirty rope on the ground.
"Sir, you need a witness who can speak, not a corpse."
"Don't slap me in the face, and don't make too much of a commotion. Lobster soldiers don't like cleaning up messes."
After saying that, he ignored them and took out the little wooden bird he had made for his daughter from his pocket. He gently rubbed the smooth back of the bird with his rough thumb and carefully adjusted the texture with a carving knife. He was just like an ordinary person immersed in fatherly love.
From inside the warehouse, muffled thuds and suppressed sobs rang out.
But soon, even the sobbing stopped.
……
The next morning, an unsigned letter was slipped into the mailbox at the entrance of the garrison camp.
The letter paper was rough, and the handwriting on it was crooked and messy, clearly written by someone who couldn't read, but the content was perfectly clear.
"Jonas Reed has betrayed His Majesty the King's trust and is hiding in the underground wine cellars of Mill Lane in the South End."
Lieutenant Andrew Gage heard the news from his uncle at breakfast.
"Uncle, what's going on?"
"A bunch of idiots did a stupid thing." Quartermaster Thomas Gage said flatly as he cut a hard-boiled egg with a silver knife.
"When the Royal Army stormed in, the clerk named Reed was tied to a post, covered in wounds, and his mouth stuffed with rags. It seems the 'Sons of Liberty' were cleaning house."
"Then... is the information provided by that Easterner true?" Andrew asked cautiously.
"Intelligence? He only gave me a name and a stack of that guy's gambling debts. He's clever; he only provided the clues and left the credit to the governor's office."
"Andrew, I don't care how you hang out with your shady friends. But you should know how to deal with this Asian guy!"
Thomas put the bread dipped in egg yolk into his mouth and chewed slowly. Andrew Gage next to him didn't dare to breathe and could only pour him some red wine from time to time.
"Also, the interrogation results are in. That Reed confessed to three 'Sons of Liberty' secret strongholds. Although our men found nothing there, we did find several boxes of leaflets in one of the warehouses that hadn't been moved in time."
"Caught red-handed, the Governor is very satisfied."
Thomas wiped his mouth with a napkin, finally ending what Andrew had considered a tedious and tedious breakfast. "This Levi is a useful tool. He can find mice without getting his hands too dirty, and he knows how to be discreet."
Andrew understood what his uncle meant.
Instead of directly reporting the stronghold, Li Wei gave the "credit" to the governor's office, allowing Thomas's men to conduct the interrogation.
This demonstrates both his ability and his "loyalty" and "prudence".
"Go, Andrew, and deliver what we promised him. A decent businessman needs some respectable credentials."