## Chapter 219: Monkey Business (4K2)
**Sunday evening, 6:30 PM.** The night had fallen, and countless lights flickered to life in London’s houses, both grand and modest.
On the dark expanse of the River Thames, Waterloo Bridge, connecting Lambeth on the south bank to Charing Cross on the north, teemed with life. From gentlemen on horseback to ladies in carriages, dockworkers in their sweat-stained blue flannel work clothes to company clerks in crisp white shirts and coats draped over their arms, and even lower-class women in checkered skirts and headscarves, scrambling to grab discounted food before the Covent Garden market closed, London’s diverse population traversed this bridge, the lifeline of its transportation.
Here, one could witness the true face of London society. Just half an hour on this bridge would reveal the stories that unfolded daily in this, the largest industrial city in Europe.
Amidst the dazzling parade of carriages and other modes of transport, a plain, ordinary public carriage with a black canopy and enclosed cabin seemed unremarkable.
Arthur, puffing on his pipe, sat in the cabin. He looked out at the Thames, reflecting the flickering lights of fishing boats, then at the bridge, named after the victorious Battle of Waterloo, a bridge that would later become famous for a love story depicted in a film called “The Bridges of Lovers.”
But he had no interest in admiring the vibrant cityscape tonight. The events that were about to unfold demanded his full attention.
In the darkness, Tom couldn’t see Arthur’s face, only the flickering red dots in the gloom.
A cloud of white mist, like a wisp of smoke, drifted silently in the stillness, and Arthur’s voice, roughened by smoking, broke the quiet.
“Tom, did you arrange everything I asked?”
Tom, naturally, wouldn’t dare neglect Arthur’s instructions. Yet, after months of experience, he was no longer the timid constable who wouldn’t even dare stand at the prosecutor’s bench in the Magistrate’s Court.
Moonlight filtered through the carriage window, illuminating the three Vs on his shoulder strap, signifying his current rank.
No longer a landless farmer or a cobbler, but Sergeant Tom Flanders.
A sergeant had to act like a sergeant. Tom flipped through the documents in his hand, using the moonlight to report to Arthur, each word carefully chosen.
“Fiona Ivan, at the Russian Embassy, secured employment with her half-baked Russian and German, and her Russian blood. Based on her report this morning, they seem to have her working as a junior cleaner, for now. But I’m sure with Ms. Ivan’s intelligence and quick wit, she’ll get a promotion soon.
As for tonight’s special operation targeting the Russian Embassy, as you ordered, Sergeant Tony Eckhart and Sergeant Charles Field from LPS, along with the general employee, Alan Pinkerton, will be involved. The infiltration will be synchronized with the concert. The team will infiltrate at 7:00 PM sharp. Pinkerton will infiltrate, Tony will drive and act as lookout, and Field will be the backup team.
If the infiltration is successful, the team will proceed according to plan and evacuate. They will deliver the loot to your residence at Lancaster Gate 36 immediately after the concert ends.
If the infiltration fails, and the embassy catches Pinkerton, Ms. Ivan will signal. Field will receive the signal and intervene, claiming that a thief they’re pursuing has entered embassy grounds.
If the embassy releases him, we’ll follow standard procedure and prosecute Pinkerton, giving him a suitable prison sentence to minimize suspicion. If they refuse, then you might need to step in and handle things.”
In the darkness, Tom saw the red dot bobbing up and down. Then, in the pitch black, he noticed a pair of eyes glowing faintly red. Only then did he realize that Arthur had been keeping his eyes closed.
Although he was always curious about why Arthur’s eyes sometimes glowed red, he had asked about it before, but Arthur always joked, saying he had red eye disease.
Even though Tom didn’t know if Arthur truly suffered from an eye condition, their year-long companionship had taught him one thing: whenever Arthur’s eyes glowed like that, it meant he was serious.
Arthur slowly put on his gloves, then held them out in front of him near the window, testing them. The white gloves, issued by Scotland Yard for officers of his rank, were exquisite, almost flawless.
They fit snugly over his hands, calloused from wielding a constable’s knife. At first glance, they appeared long and beautiful, as if these were the hands of a pianist.
“Let’s hope their operation goes smoothly tonight. If we miss this opportunity, we won’t find a better one during the London Conference. Time is tight, and the task is demanding. The value of LPS depends on tonight.”
Arthur paused, then smiled at Tom. “Tom, do you find this work more enjoyable than being on duty at Scotland Yard?”
Perhaps it was the darkness, but Tom, usually mild-mannered to the point of being weak, showed a hint of wildness. He nodded with a smile.
“Honestly, it’s much better than being on duty. Here, we have to use our brains, learn to write reports, but at least there’s no mental burden. But on the front lines, besides the physical exhaustion, we have to deal with people just as poor as us. Infiltrating the Russian Embassy is better than chasing street vendors all day. But…”
Tom hesitated, then glanced at the French fat man bound and gagged beside him, a look of reluctance in his eyes.
He pointed at Dumas and asked, “Arthur, can you tell me why you brought Mr. Dumas to the concert? This fatso is just dead weight, isn’t he?”
As soon as Tom finished speaking, Dumas, who had already lost much of his strength from resisting, suddenly revived. He thrust his head forward, unable to stop, then bobbed his head vigorously at Arthur, his eyes wide as a pocket watch. His mouth made a series of “uh-uh-uh” sounds.
Although his pronunciation was unclear, Tom could still make out what Dumas was saying: “Arthur, are you crazy?! If I had known I’d be in this situation, I’d rather have been captured by pirates! Take this cloth off! You’re about to suffocate me!”
Tom, somewhat amused, asked Arthur, “Arthur, should we take the cloth off? He can’t escape anyway.”
Arthur just took a drag from his pipe and said, “I had a reason for gagging him.”
Tom looked at Dumas, his face flushed with excitement, and hesitated. “But…”
Arthur sighed at his reaction. “Alright, Tom, you asked for it, so listen carefully.”
With that, Arthur reached out and removed the cloth from Dumas’ mouth.
The moment the cloth was gone, before Dumas could even catch his breath, a booming voice filled the carriage. “You bloody English lobsters, I’ll fuck your…”
But before the word ‘mother’ could escape his lips, Arthur stuffed the cloth back into his mouth.
Arthur looked at Tom, expressionless, and calmly said, “Now you understand? I once thought I could move him with sincerity, but French emotions are often unreliable. They play a more elaborate game than British high society when it comes to feelings.”
Tom looked at Dumas, his expression complicated, and asked Arthur, “I have no problem with gagging him, but why bring him to the concert? This fatso is just dead weight.”
Arthur replied, “I didn’t plan on bringing him at first, but Francois Vidocq in France issued a possible criminal threat against me. He said he was going to give me a big surprise at the concert. Considering this fatso has a bounty on his head from the French government, I think it’s prudent to be cautious. After all, if we lose him during the London Conference, Britain’s reputation will be tarnished.”
Dumas, upon hearing this, snorted through his nose, muttering some unintelligible French phrases before finally managing a “uh-uh-uh” to get Arthur’s attention. “You tied me up for this? I told you, Mr. Vidocq wouldn’t kidnap me, he’s my friend. And besides, what about British human rights? You guys love to talk about that, don’t you?”
Arthur, however, merely said, “Those of your friends who were brought to justice by Mr. Vidocq thought the same way. In my opinion, Mr. Vidocq might have hesitated only because the price wasn’t right. I’ve heard that Mr. Vidocq earns 6000 francs a year at the Paris Police Prefecture. He can send in 800 friends a year for that 6000 francs, and the bounty on your head is currently 2000 to 3000 pounds.
Alexander, even though you’re a literary playwright with a passion for art and a history of lavish spending, you should know that the exchange rate between pounds and francs is 1 to 20. Your head is worth 60,000 francs! Catching you alone is enough for Mr. Vidocq to work for 10 years. With that kind of money on the table, who wouldn’t be tempted?
As for human rights, Thomas Paine, who wrote ‘The Rights of Man’, is certainly a great man. But after writing that book, he was pursued by the government and had to flee to France to participate in the French Revolution. Britain has the soil to nurture ‘The Rights of Man’, but unfortunately, at least for now, we can’t accommodate him here. If you want to talk about ‘The Rights of Man’, I can consider sending you back to France immediately.”
Dumas was so enraged by Arthur’s words that he couldn’t even breathe properly. After a long pause, he finally managed to squeak out, “At least take this damn cloth off my mouth.”
Arthur glanced at him. “Taking the cloth off is fine, but you have to promise not to swear.”
Dumas, his hair practically standing on end, roared, “I promise!”
Arthur, hearing this, reluctantly removed the cloth from his mouth.
“Ah, Arthur, you bloody…”
Before Dumas could finish, his mouth was gagged again.
Arthur saw Dumas’ agitated state and knew he couldn’t push him too hard. Otherwise, he would definitely write about him in his books and curse him out.
He tried to soothe him. “Alexander, bear with me a little longer. You’ll be safe at the theater. The program tonight is quite interesting. I’ve arranged a nice box for you. You can’t move freely until the performance ends, but all other amenities are top-notch.”
The carriage continued its journey, passing through Waterloo Bridge and onto Waterloo Road.
After about ten minutes, the carriage slowly stopped in front of the Coburg Theater, surrounded by red-brick theaters.
The theater entrance was already crowded with people, the air thick with the scent of perfume and the chatter of gentlemen and ladies.
Among the crowd, there were occasional glimpses of malicious eyes, belonging to pickpockets and thieves who had flocked from all corners of London.
Correspondingly, among the crowd, there were also a few women with delicate and vulnerable makeup, standing alone. However, they weren’t legitimate noblewomen, but high-class prostitutes waiting for customers.
This kind of event always attracted their business.
For example, right in front of Arthur, one was approaching him.
“Oh, madam, I… hehe, no, no, no, don’t misunderstand me. I have no intention of robbing you, I have absolutely no ill intentions. You see, I’ve had a good education. You can’t tell, but I’m actually a graduate of Oxford. Hehe, yes, that’s right, my education background has secured me a decent job, of course. I work for the Royal Navy, my income is good, I live near Hyde Park, and I have plenty of people vying for my attention.
Like, say, a Scotland Yard inspector, a French playwright, a Cambridge-educated priest, a magazine editor, and a newspaper reporter. Oh, you wouldn’t believe it, they’re a real pain. They’re always begging me to help them with difficult tasks, but while helping is a hassle, it always has its rewards.
You see, I happen to have two tickets here, box seats, all from those people. Unfortunately, my companion is unwell tonight and can’t make it. Oh, she’s really out of luck, and it makes me sad. But since she can’t come, I don’t have a companion for tonight. And that would be so embarrassing in front of my friends.
You look so beautiful, like the stars in the night sky. Would you be kind enough to accompany me to the concert tonight? To be honest, seeing you makes me think of Lord Byron’s poem – ‘A young man is full of energy, just like the spring river, so abundant.’ I… I want to get to know you better.”
Arthur, recognizing the familiar face, felt a twitch in his eyelid. He stopped just as he was stepping out of the carriage.
Dumas, behind him, also peeked out, then quickly sat back down.
Arthur closed the carriage door, coughed lightly, and said apologetically to the driver, “Sir, please drive around to the back entrance of the theater. There are too many monkeys at the front entrance.”
(End of Chapter)