Under the respectful gaze of Marcel Yale, Jero Bonaparte smiled at him, resting his right hand casually on the side of the sofa, inquiring about the establishnt of the National Intelligence Bureau in a relaxed tone.
"By the grace of Your Majesty! The basic frawork has been completed, and many mbers in the departnt are transferred from the Police Departnt. So of them have such skills that even I am ashad of!"
Marcel Yale humbly reported to Jero Bonaparte. Due to the recent "cri sweeping" operation in Paris, a large number of corrupt policen were exiled by the Ministry of Justice in the na of justice. Many vacant positions were temporarily filled by policen from the Outer Province. During this period, Marcel Yale discovered a group of promising candidates suitable for serving as "Railway Police."
After the regi in Paris beca stable, those temporarily transferred policen from the Outer Province were replaced by newly selected local policen, and Marcel Yale absorbed part of the soon-to-leave foreign policen into the National Intelligence Bureau.
Many foreign policen, once they heard it was specifically to serve the President, imdiately chose to join.
Jero Bonaparte nodded with satisfaction and said, "I believe in your ability; the National Intelligence Bureau can appropriately absorb so mbers from the Police Departnt as the backbone of the departnt! However, you must also cultivate so talents of your own!"
Afterward, Jero Bonaparte solemnly reminded, "Rember, your duties differ from the ordinary Police Departnt. You need to serve not only as surveillance internally, making those hidden in the shadows have nowhere to hide, but also take on the role of gathering enemy intelligence externally, whether by incentives or bribes. Your goal is to infiltrate enemy countries, instigate defections, and understand each country’s attitude towards us to help the governnt formulate policies. In extre situations, you might also need to carry out assassinations... Overall, your tasks are arduous; you must not be careless!"
Jero Bonaparte’s series of demands made Marcel Yale’s expression grow more solemn. He had an inkling that this task would not be easy.
"Currently, Paris is in a power vacuum phase after the purge; the old gang forces have been eradicated, and new ones are still growing. I hope you can seize the opportunity to firmly hold Paris in our hands!" Jero Bonaparte admonished Marcel Yale once again.
Every professional organization must go through an exploratory stage. Jero Bonaparte did not wish for this stage to last too long, so he was responsible for perfecting the National Intelligence Bureau for Marcel Yale.
"Yes!" Marcel Yale’s expression beca even more humble.
Jero Bonaparte’s guidance suddenly enlightened Marcel Yale. He couldn’t help but regret not having thought of this thod earlier. Cultivating a gang secretly to serve him was much faster than getting involved directly, especially with these gangs living in native Paris.
"I know it’s difficult to build a complete intelligence organization!" Jero Bonaparte rose to his feet and approached Marcel Yale, who also showed an expression of being overwheld with favor and stood up. Jero Bonaparte patted Marcel Yale’s shoulder and said in a friendly tone: "However, the sooner we establish it, the more confident we will be! I will not forget anyone who contributes to France!"
"I will do my utmost to establish a complete team!" Marcel Yale promised Jero Bonaparte with an excited expression.
"I believe in you!" Jero Bonaparte replied.
Under Jero Bonaparte’s earnest instructions, Marcel Yale left the Elysee Palace.
Seated in the carriage, Marcel Yale restrained his smile, knit his brows, and showed a serious expression, recalling the President’s words spoken at the Elysee Palace.
"Stop the carriage!" Marcel Yale suddenly shouted towards the coachman outside the carriage.
The coachman quickly tightened the reins, causing the two tall, brown-yellow horses to rear in pain as their necks were swiftly restrained, emitting a fierce neigh.
Taking advantage of the neighing, the coachman leaned towards the carriage and softly asked about the situation inside: "Director, what’s wrong?"
Marcel Yale drew open the curtains. The fiery red sun was gradually setting in the west, casting its final light and warmth on the world today.
The sunset elongated the shadow of the carriage, casting it upon a small mansion nearby, as if enveloping the entire small residence in shadow.
The blinding light made Marcel Yale involuntarily cover his eyes. He mumbled, "Still early," and then ordered the coachman to take him back to the National Intelligence Bureau.
As the sun set in the west, the ti gradually approached 8 PM.
Since it was the end of January 1850, the weather in Paris at night still carried a slight chill. A small team of five, clad in black coats, moved through the streets of the Monte Mar District amid the cold wind.
The holess people walking on the streets of the Monte Mar District trembled and ducked aside when they saw this team, murmuring, "Don’t kill ."
Jero Bonaparte’s cri-sweeping operation indeed rid Paris of a nace, but it also left these holess with indelible mories.
So holess were executed as black and evil elents, while most were forcibly given a "spiritual" education by the army.
As a result, whenever the holess saw this kind of outfit, they instinctively thought it wasn’t the army coming in.
This team ignored the holess and quickly disappeared into the night.
"God bless!" The holess were relieved to have escaped a catastrophe.
Just as he was about to leave, sothing shiny caught his eye.
The holess cautiously went to check, and at the mysterious stop, he found sothing gleaming.
"God bless!" The holess quickly squatted to pick it up, discovering a silver coin in his hand. The holess kissed the Napoleon portrait on the coin and couldn’t help but exclaim, "Oh! Emperor bless!"
Saying this, he slipped the coin into his pocket and hurriedly disappeared into the night.
This silver coin can sustain him for quite a long ti.
...
"Reyno, you’re doing sothing unnecessary again! You just can’t help your cheap sympathy!" one mber of the mysterious team said to the person following behind him.
The mber called Reyno did not respond.
Just as he was about to continue mocking the mber nad Reyno, the team leader said softly and sternly, "Quiet!"
The team quieted down again, and the leader’s voice sounded once more: "Just this once, no next ti!"
"Yes!!"
The squad quickly arrived at a dark mansion, its doors locked shut, with no lights inside; it seed the owner was already resting.
"Go!" the leader said to the mbers behind him.
The mbers behind him quickly sprang into action, taking out a wire and inserting it into the keyhole, fiddling it back and forth twice until they heard a "click" sound from the door.
The door opened, and the squad quietly sneaked into the mansion to find its owner.
After so investigation, they finally reached a room on the second floor of the mansion.
"Here!"
The squad quietly opened the door, entered the room, and lit a kerosene lamp.
The glaring light made the mansion’s owner involuntarily open his eyes.
Before the mansion owner could react, the leader spoke, "Are you Willino, the leader of the ’Iron Fist Gang’?"
The mansion owner quickly ca to his senses, warily looking at the mbers with iron masks by his window, pretending to be at ease, he said, "You are trespassing into a private residence in the dead of night, be careful I’ll call the police!"
"Call the police! Hahaha... he said he’s going to call the police!" One of the squad mbers couldn’t help but laugh, and everyone present couldn’t help but laugh out loud: "A gangster actually thinks of calling the police!"
"Gangster? What gangster! Everyone in Paris knows those gangs have already been wiped out!" Willino tried to act puzzled.
Even though the state of martial law had been lifted, the word "gangster" was still not a good term.
"Mr. Willino, don’t play dumb! We’re here to invite you to a place!" the leader said calmly to Willino, "Of course, you can also refuse, but the consequences..."
The mber beside him imdiately pulled out a flintlock pistol, and the implication was clear.
"I’ll go with you!" Willino imdiately surrendered, deciding to surrender for the ti being.
"I’m warning you, don’t try any tricks! Our identity, you can’t afford to provoke!" the leader threatened.
"Could it be you are..." Seeing these skilled individuals before him, Willino realized who they were.
"Mr. Willino, as long as you know it, no need to say it out loud!" the leader responded lightly.
"Hmm, hmm!" Willino’s deanor quickly shifted from a tiger to a kitten.
Having experienced the martial law, he didn’t want to try it again.
"Actually, I’m also one of those people! We’re on the sa side," Willino couldn’t help but say.
"Tch!" Willino was only t with the scorn of the leader and mbers, their silent expressions seed to say, "Who do you think you are to know us?"
"I understand, I’ll go with you!" Willino said with a bitter smile to everyone present.
"Then please go ahead! Lord Willino!"
The leader made a gesture of invitation, and Willino walked out of the mansion with them.
A carriage was parked outside the mansion, and after covering Willino’s head with a hood, they loaded him into the carriage.
Watching the carriage gradually disappear into the night, the leader spoke again: "Let’s go! Next one!"
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