Money makes the world go round. In any culture, this saying was absolute truth.
What could five hundred pounds buy you?
A round-trip ticket to Arica, for one — though to board that plane, you had to wear a flight crew uniform. In essence, Pierre was going to pose as part of the airline staff.
On the way to the seaplane dock, Kent, driving the car, glanced at Pierre in the rearview mirror and said bluntly:
"Mr. Pierre, I don't know why you're heading to New York, but just know: we only stay there five days. After that, whether you're back or not, we return to London. And next ti... there might not be a next ti."
"Don't worry, Captain Kent. I won't delay you."
Soon, they pulled into a parking lot by Tower Bridge. Moored on the Thas was a large, four-engine Imperial Class C seaplane.
"See that?" Kent said, nodding at the plane. "That's an Imperial C-class flying boat. Before the war, it was the pride of Britain's overseas routes — flying weekly from London to Egypt, India, East Africa, South Africa, Malaysia, and Australia... Now, only the New York line remains. One flight per week."
As he spoke, he led the way toward the dock.
The soldiers on guard rely glanced at them before waving them through. Clearly, Kent had arranged everything in advance. Judging by the guards' indifference, this wasn't their first ti doing this sort of thing.
Even when Pierre boarded the plane, none of the actual crew paid him much attention. He simply blended in — another uniford figure — and took a seat up front, just ahead of the mailbags.
About twenty minutes later, the hatch sealed. The four engines mounted on the wings roared to life, and the massive seaplane taxied out onto the Thas.
Spray lashed the windows as they picked up speed — then, suddenly, the plane lifted into the air.
For Pierre, it was his first ti on a seaplane. At first, curiosity had him craning his neck to take in every detail.
But that novelty soon wore off.
"Better get so sleep," the chanic Richard said, tossing him a sleeping bag. "We've got twenty-six hours ahead of us."
Twenty-six hours!
It wasn't a nonstop flight. They would refuel in Greenland before continuing to New York.
Throughout the long flight over the Atlantic, sotis Pierre could see smoke columns rising from the sea below — wreckage of rchant ships sunk by German U-boats, their fires still burning.
A grim reminder: The Nazi wolfpacks were no myth.
Including the stopover at Greenland, the entire journey took nearly twenty-seven hours. Finally, they touched down in New York Harbor.
As soon as the plane docked, the crew grew restless — eager to rush into the city and unload the treasures hidden in their suitcases: watches, caras, luxury goods — all ant to be traded for cash and necessities.
New York, in 1943, wasn't the neon paradise of later decades — but even now, it was already one of the world's grandest cities. Towering skyscrapers lined the avenues, and walking amid the endless crowd, Pierre couldn't shake the sense that he had sohow traveled into the future.
The Empire State Building itself soared high above Manhattan, a titan of concrete and steel.
As he moved through the rivers of people, past glistening storefronts and roaring traffic, he felt an odd sense of detachnt — as if he were walking through two different eras at once.
For soone like him, unfamiliar with the city, there was really only one place to start:
Chinatown.
And he had a mission: to find a supply line for cigarettes.
When Pierre stepped into Chinatown, he imdiately noticed sothing: there were quite a few people dressed almost exactly like him — sa style, sa color.
It was then that a Chinese man in a casual open-collared shirt approached him with a warm smile.
"Hello, sir. First ti in Chinatown?"
His Mandarin carried a thick Cantonese accent, but hearing it nonetheless stirred a sudden surge of warmth inside Pierre.
"Yes," he nodded cautiously,
"My first ti."
Seeing his guarded expression, the man hurried to explain:
"Sir, you have nothing to worry about. Here in Chinatown, half the people make their living off people like you. Why would we ruin our own business? Rest assured — no one here will try to cheat you. I just saw you looked new, and thought maybe I could help."
Intrigued, Pierre asked:
"Half the people?
What do you an?"
The man explained:
"Look at the sailors around here — they're your colleagues.
These days, the best business in Chinatown is buying watches, caras, furs...
all from sailors like you."
Through his explanation, Pierre quickly pieced it together.
Tens of thousands of Chinese sailors served in Allied rchant fleets.
When they docked in Britain, they would use cigarettes and other goods to trade for valuables — watches, caras, jewelry, furs — then bring them here to Chinatown to resell for cash and supplies.
"So, if I'm not mistaken," Zhu Yihai said with a grin,
"you're here to trade too, right?"
"Correct."
Pierre smiled easily.
"I brought a few things.
Just not sure what the going prices are."
"That'll depend on what exactly you've got.
Don't worry — I'll find you the best shop.
As for my commission, you needn't worry — whichever store I take you to, the shopkeeper pays . No extra cost to you."
Zhu's tone was open and forthright.
Business was built on trust, after all —especially when dealing with newcors.
With luck, he figured, this client would beco a repeat custor.
And regulars were good business.
Sizing him up, Zhu guessed Pierre was around thirty.
Well-dressed, clean, but the worn collar of his shirt suggested his fortunes weren't that great.
After a mont's thought, Pierre asked:
"Suppose I needed a large quantity of cigarettes —
Luckies and Cals especially.
Could you get them?"
"Of course!" Zhu laughed.
"That's what everyone cos here for.
How many do you need?
Twenty cartons? Fifty?"
"You know," he added seriously,
"even in Arica, cigarettes are rationed now.
Each person only gets a few packs a week.
Prices aren't cheap."
"How much markup?" Pierre asked calmly.
"At least fifty percent."
Zhu Yihai didn't even blink.
"Sotis more — sixty, seventy — depends on the market.
But if you're buying a lot, I can get you a better deal."
Pierre nodded, satisfied.
"Good.
Because I need more than all of them put together."
He smiled faintly and added:
"If you can find a reliable supplier — one who can guarantee volu — your commission...
will be generous."
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