Iron Cross Fire

"Sir, do you have any more questions?"

The German guarding the gate, or rather von Wald, stood in the center of the gate and said to him.

From his name, you will know that he is an old German Junker noble. However, due to some political incorrectness, his noble status was deprived and he was later exiled. As for what exactly it did, there is no way of knowing.

"Walder, can you give me some clear information?"

"I'm sorry, I don't have any information. I'm leaving. Be well."

Walder walked out and closed the front door before leaving, leaving the room in darkness.

Vasa didn't feel like working when he came, so he wandered around for a while and then fell asleep on the bed.

The next day, he was woken up by a phone call. After getting out of bed to answer the call, he heard a familiar voice.

"Sir, we have found out."

On the other end of the phone, there was a man in a double-breasted suit, gold-rimmed glasses on his face, and a cigar in his mouth. He looked like a successful person, which attracted people around him to admire him from afar and not dare to approach him.

But if you look closely, you will find that his suit does not fit at all and his glasses are too big. Moreover, he does not smoke at all and will cough several times after taking a puff of a cigar.

"Ahem! Mr. Rihan, it is no longer possible for Atkinson to die from the shooting reported in the newspaper."

"You don't have to say that!"

Vasalai's eyes widened, and the anger in his pupils was vaguely visible.

"It looks like you haven't fully recovered yet, cough! Atkinson died miserably. He was pushed into the steel-making furnace, and no ashes were left."

"Hiss!" Vasalai took a deep breath, and then asked with great interest:

"Then how can you be sure? In other words, who was the person who pushed him down."

"I stole some documents from the steelworks last night. It said, 'Atkinson was sued for 50,000 crowns in compensation for causing an accident due to incorrect operation of the machine.' It's funny. They want money from people."

"Impossible! He has been engaged in metallurgy for more than 20 years at least. How could he make a mistake? It was obviously done by someone else."

Vasalai stood up suddenly and said without doubt.

"If I am not mistaken, the culprit behind the scenes should be the Skoda factory, and they collaborated with the government to cause the 'accident'."

"How?"

"While we were at work, we casually sneaked into the Skoda gun factory. There was a fool inside who was willing to work overtime for others, and then we killed him."

While talking, he also tinkered with his own decoration:

"He is quite rich. It is hard to imagine that this is the wealth that a worker can have, although it is indeed what he should have. Until I found an IOU in his pocket, hahaha! But he still has Something that should interest you."

"Um?"

"He had a letter on him, and it had something to do with Atkinson."

"Um!"

"But he was not directly involved in the assassination."

"Hmm~"

Vasalai was a little happy in his heart, but he still asked angrily:

"Then are you kidding me?"

"Aren't you asking me why I am sure that Skoda is behind it? This is the reason."

"Uh... well, let's tell you something valuable quickly and stop beating around the bush."

"We recorded a lot of things, and I won't be able to explain them all for a while, and since a key person died in Skoda, we will definitely take strict precautions. So, I'll see you this afternoon, sir."

"Um..."

Vassar hung up the phone, sighed, and lay down on the bed to take a nap again.

As for the group of spies in Slovenia, they may have to break their promise because they did not take the train but walked.

Vasalai rested until noon before waking up. Seeing the bright sunshine outside the gap in the wall, he could not do anything, and felt some indescribable sadness in his heart.

There is no other way. He is blind in one eye and has a broken arm. Such characteristics are so obvious that there is no other one in Vienna.

See, Vasalai spent all day reading books. He could hardly read a word before.

But there was no other way but to pass the time while absorbing some advanced military knowledge from his father's summary of the art of war.

"Sir, they are coming."

There was a sudden knock on the door, which alerted Vassar who was still reading under the candlelight.

He looked up and found that it was so dark that he could hardly see anything. He put the stacked books back on the shelf, breathed a sigh of relief, and said:

"Let them in, Walder."

The old door slowly opened, and a group of people carefully walked around the door that looked like it was about to collapse, and then poured in, quickly filling the living room of the cabin again.

The leader presented a stack of white paper, with dense pen handwriting on it, but the writing was quite beautiful, and Vasalai actually enjoyed reading it.

"This must be written by a rich man. I guess," Vassar came and touched his chin, thought for a while and said:

"The boss of Skoda?"

"Yes and no."

Vasalai looked up at the man, frowned, and said with some dissatisfaction:

"Can you please tell me your name? I'm really sorry that I don't know your name yet. Remember not to mince words next time."

"Edelante, I will also arrange the names of the others on a piece of paper in the future."

Edelante took off his black bowler hat, turned it around with his index finger and placed it on the table, and said with a slight smile:

"Would you point a gun at your father? This is what we do. If you say something carelessly, you would have gone to see God, hahaha!"

"That's a bit of a joke. Okay, I won't ask for anything, but please speak more clearly next time."

Edrant still had a smile on his face, and he took out some more papers from the small bag on his waist.

Vasara just stood up and was about to take it, but Edrant suddenly stepped back a few steps, pointing the finger at Vasara:

"You haven't finished reading that one yet? Don't be distracted!"

Faced with his rebuke, Vasara had no choice but to return to his seat. He was anxious and could only briefly scan the black words with his eyes.

He turned the paper back and forth, and after confirming that he had finished reading it, he said with some surprise:

"The assassin was a Hungarian? It seems that his motive was simply that his faith was too extreme."

"Well! Keep reading."

Satisfied, Edrant threw the rest of the white paper to Vasara.

After another careful reading, Vasala looked at the broken ceiling, his eyes full of disbelief:

"Wasn't that guy fired by Skoda? Why is he willing to come back to work for him?"

"Being fired doesn't mean you won't get a job. Besides, your father hurt him so badly, how can you not hold a grudge and seek revenge?"

Vasala nodded, his eyes were a little dull, as if he was thinking about something, and suddenly smiled bitterly:

"It's really a narrow road for enemies! But I have to clean up my father's ass."

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