Apollo Bar No. 116

"To the Apollo Bar."

Li Wensheng drove to the next street, parked the car by the roadside, and stepped out carrying a briefcase. After walking a few paces, he signaled to a line of rickshaws waiting on the opposite side of the road and hired one.

It was eight-twenty when he arrived at the Apollo Bar. Usually, this was the peak hour for such an establishment, yet the Apollo was eerily quiet. There was no music, no dancing, and certainly no flashing lights.

The bar was filled with guests—a mix of Chinese, foreigners, and even a few Japanese men, easily identifiable by the style of their mustaches. Despite the crowd, aside from a few tables whispering in low tones, everyone was drinking in silence. The Apollo had another peculiarity: there were very few waiters, and everyone remained seated, never wandering about.

As Li Wensheng walked in, he drew the attention of most of the room, though their gazes weren't fixed on him, but on the briefcase in his hand.

He reached the bar. Before he could speak, a white-bearded foreigner in his fifties behind the counter slid a glass of liquor toward him and smiled. "Pigeon, it’s been a long time. This one’s on the house."

Li Wensheng picked up the glass and smiled back. "Thanks, Thomas."

After taking a sip, he said, "I need to go to the second floor."

Thomas glanced at the briefcase on the counter and nodded. "OK, please."

Li Wensheng turned immediately, glass in one hand and briefcase in the other, and headed toward the stairs.

The layout of the second floor resembled a modern KTV, with a dimly lit corridor flanked by private rooms. As he reached the top of the stairs, a slender foreign woman emerged from the first room. Seeing him, she feigned surprise. "Wow, Pigeon! It’s been ages."

"Yes, it has been a while. Jennifer, is Room 207 occupied?"

"No, come with me."

Jennifer swayed her hips as she led the way to Room 207. The room was tiny, barely ten square meters, containing nothing but a small round table and three stools. It had no windows and was completely enclosed.

Li Wensheng pulled out a stool and sat down. Jennifer glanced at the briefcase on the table and smiled. "Selling intelligence again, Pigeon?"

"Yes. I have three pieces of intelligence. The first is the Japanese military defense map of Kunshan. The second is the Japanese plan for the encirclement of the Loyal and Patriotic Army hiding in the Zhejiang region. The final one is the serial number of a cargo ship and its departure time from Shanghai to Yokohama. That ship is loaded with gold and jewelry looted by the Japanese from the Jiangsu and Zhejiang areas. The old rules apply: I only sell to the Chinese."

A flash of surprise crossed Jennifer’s eyes. These three reports were significant—each one more important than anything Li had sold before.

"OK, I will find out immediately which of our Chinese patrons is interested." She left and returned moments later, placing a masquerade mask on the table before exiting again.

Li Wensheng picked up the mask, which covered only the upper half of his face, put it on, and continued drinking.

Halfway through his drink, the door opened. Jennifer led in a woman also wearing a mask.

"You two talk," Jennifer said, then stepped out to guard the door.

Observing the woman’s exposed lower face, Li Wensheng gathered she was Chinese and in her early twenties. Judging by her attire—a Western-style cinched dress of average quality—he deduced she was from a wealthy background. This was clearly a disguise; she was not used to such clothing. In her attempt to conceal her identity, she had overlooked her watch: an Omega. In Shanghai, it cost nearly four hundred dollars—a luxury even high-ranking military officers couldn't afford. A wealthy young woman like this wouldn't be with the Nationalist Party; she had to be from Yanzhou.

The woman sat down and asked, "How much?"

Li Wensheng’s pupils contracted slightly. He stood up immediately, grabbing his briefcase. Her tone was far too nervous, and anyone who frequented this place knew the rules: inspect the goods before asking the price. She was clearly a novice. Dealing with amateurs was a headache; he would rather wait for someone else.

Just as he reached the door, a hurried voice came from behind. "I can pay more!"

Li Wensheng paused, his hand on the doorknob. He turned back and said, "Five percent extra. That’s a coaching fee."

A smile appeared on the visible part of the woman’s face. She said with relief, "No problem."

Li Wensheng returned to the table, set the briefcase down, and pushed it toward her. "Here, you inspect the goods first, then we discuss the price. If we cannot agree, you must pay half the asking price anyway. Because once the intelligence is viewed, it is no longer exclusive, and I can only sell it to others for half the cost."

The woman nodded quickly. "Thank you!"

She opened the briefcase and began to read. She moved quickly, finishing in five minutes. She placed the documents back and asked, "How much?"

"Three thousand dollars."

The woman froze. She was a first-timer, but she had been told that intelligence here was expensive. Three thousand dollars for these three reports was incredibly cheap.

"Are you sure that's the price?" she asked, disbelieving.

"That is correct. Three thousand dollars."

Li Wensheng never intended to profit from the Nationalist Party or Yanzhou. He traded here solely to save as many lives as possible. When he served at the Shanghai Military Statistics Station last year, he would selectively pilfer intelligence during his missions and sell it under the alias "Pigeon" at the Apollo Bar. He sold only to the Chinese, always at a low price.

Realizing he wasn't mistaken, the woman bowed in gratitude. "Thank you, thank you."

"Payment upon delivery. Three thousand for the intelligence, plus the five percent coaching fee—three thousand one hundred and fifty dollars in total."

He didn't want to get rich from them, so he kept the price low, but he never gave anything away for free. He knew that if he did, they would try to recruit him. The same applied to the coaching fee: he could be cheap, but he had to be professional.

"Right." The woman excitedly pulled a stack of hundred-dollar bills from her handbag and counted out thirty-two notes. "The extra fifty is a thank you," she said with a smile.

Li Wensheng pocketed the money, picked up his glass, and stood up. "Payment for goods, no thanks needed. Since you gave me an extra fifty, I’ll give you one piece of advice: next time you come here, don't open your bag in front of others. The items inside might easily expose your identity."

With that, he walked to the door, leaving the woman staring at her handbag in remorse.

He opened the door and handed Jennifer two hundred dollars. "I need to leave."

Jennifer took the cash, glanced at the woman inside, and nodded. "Follow me."

She led him to the end of the corridor and used a key to open a room on the right. It was identical to the previous one, except for a few strips of black cloth on the table. Without needing to be told, Li Wensheng picked up a strip and blindfolded himself.

Jennifer gestured to the room, and a young foreigner stepped out from a hidden door in the wall. He led Li Wensheng by the shoulder through a passage. They descended a flight of stairs, made a sharp right turn, and the path leveled out. After walking for a while in the dark, they emerged into a bright kitchen. The man guided him to the back door and finally let go. "We're here."

Li Wensheng removed his blindfold, handed the cloth back, and stepped out into the alley behind the shops. He looked left and right, headed toward the main street, and hailed a rickshaw. He returned to the street where he had left his car, then drove home.