Shadow of great britain

London, Tower Hamlets.

Dusk has arrived, and the setting sun on the horizon reflects on the yellowed sewage flowing out of the tannery workshop, coating it with a layer of gold. The long sewage stream spreads to the horizon. At first glance, it looks like a road leading to The Golden Road to the Zenith.

As night falls, the tavern in Brick Lane in Whitechapel District gradually becomes lively.

The place is crowded with merchant sailors, dock laborers, and kiln-burning workers from nearby brick factories who come to have fun.

The air is filled with the sour smell of fermented sweat. You can see the steam coming out of freshly baked food everywhere. You can hear the sounds of rude customers bragging and clinking beer glasses. Occasionally, you can also hear a few words about the tavern waitress's anger after being teased. of yelling.

The waitress pointed at the sailor's nose and yelled: "You uneducated thing! If you have the guts, would you like to pinch it again? See if I don't chop off your hand!"

The drunken sailor burped. He leaned back in his chair. He was so drunk that he didn't even have the strength to stand up. He looked up at the ceiling, but he still kept asking for benefits.

"Baby, don't be angry. Where did you buy this ass? Why does it feel harder than a rock? Your pub is too bad. The beer that shouldn't be mixed with water doesn't taste as strong as sea water. It shouldn't. The bread mixed with water and the ass are harder than the other."

When the waitress heard this, her face turned red with anger. She raised the tray in her hand and was about to hit the sailor on the head. But before she could do anything, she saw a man blocking him. It was the tavern. The new owner - Judd Martin.

The round-cheeked Mr. Martin had a philistine smile on his face. He placed one hand on the tray raised by the waitress, and then lowered his voice and said, "Annie, that's about it. We still have to do business."

Anne complained a little aggrievedly: "But uncle..."

Martin reprimanded: "Stop it, this place is no better than my hometown. If you want to earn a living in London, you have to suffer a little. We are not some noble daughter, we are untouchable. If you really don't want to work here anymore, then Just find yourself a good husband as soon as possible, and I'll pay someone else to go there. Do you know how much it cost me to buy this store and apply for a liquor license? Girl, just do it, uncle, it's not easy for me to make money. , please don’t mess with my business.”

When Annie heard this, she drooped her eyes and blinked twice, and her eyes became moist.

Judd Martin had no choice but to take out two one-penny coins from his pocket and put them on the waitress's tray: "Okay, okay, take this little money and go back and buy something you like. There are still some in the kitchen. Bacon and ham, you can cut some for yourself when you're done."

The waitress then broke through her tears and smiled. She kissed Martin on the side of his face, and the depressed expression on her face disappeared: "Thank you, uncle."

Martin watched his niece walking towards the kitchen with light steps. He couldn't help scratching the side of his face and complained: "Girls nowadays are too shrewd. If anyone marries my niece, he will spend a lot of money on her." The effect of the order will come."

He was about to return to the counter to continue busy with business, but halfway through, he seemed to remember something. Martin hurriedly shouted into the kitchen: "Annie! Just cut the ham into two finger-sized pieces at most. The girl doesn't want it." Eat too much of that!”

As soon as Martin finished speaking, he suddenly heard the sound of the louvered waist door of the tavern being pushed open.

Martin raised his eyes and saw that they were three or four strong men wearing short-sleeved shirts. Judging from the lumpy muscles and veins on their arms and their deformed ears, these were definitely not good men. Provoked.

And most importantly, Mr. Martin also saw groups of young men outside the tavern holding various bright knives through the gap between the strong men shoulder to shoulder.

Mr. Martin quickly took out two bills from under the counter. He thought for a moment, but still did not hand over the money immediately. Instead, he greeted them with a smile and asked tentatively.

"Gentlemen, I wonder what you would like to drink today? Our place..."

Unexpectedly, before he finished speaking, the other party was already sitting on the high stool in front of the counter, pinching Mr. Martin's face with his calloused palms.

"Martin, you don't recognize me?"

Mr. Martin looked at the other party carefully and quickly bared his teeth and forced out a smile that was uglier than crying.

"It turns out to be Mr. Fred's right-hand man - Mr. Hammer Ward. Didn't you hear what Mr. Fred said? My opening of a store in Whitechapel has already been approved by him."

"Fred?"

Ward smiled, let go of Martin's chin, and said, "Martin, can you stop mentioning a dead person's name all the time? He probably doesn't know which fish he's lying in at the moment. If you To seek his protection, I could throw you into the sea.

By the way, I would like to inform you one more thing. From now on, I will have the final say on matters in Whitechapel. If you want to survive, you'd better show me some due respect and sincerity. "

When Martin heard this, he knew that he would not be able to escape today.

He quickly took out the two bills that he had prepared long ago, nodded and bowed and said: "In this case, a small gift is not respectful."

Ward looked down at the ticket and twitched the corner of his mouth: "Two?"

As soon as he finished speaking, before Martin could answer, he heard the sound of taking out a gun and turning on the safety.

Several strong men behind Ward pointed guns at the astonished guests in the tavern, stared and shouted: "Whatever you are looking at, get out of here!"

Ward put the gun against Martin's chin and said: "Martin, you have to be lucky that I didn't come to you specifically today. So I can forgive you for your first rudeness. Tell me, Fiona is here Where? That stinky bitch asked me to meet here and said she planned to compete with me. You shouldn’t be meddling in her business, right? "

"No, of course not." Martin raised his hands and said with sweat on his cheeks: "So the person Miss Ivan was talking about was you? She...she asked me to give you a letter."

"A letter? Hahaha!" Ward put away his pistol, raised his eyebrows and whistled: "Does that stinky bitch want to express her love for me?"

Martin tremblingly took out the letter from under the table and handed it over with both hands respectfully.

Ward opened the letter nonchalantly, took out the letter paper, looked at the front, and then at the back.

However, both sides were blank, with nothing written on them.

An unpleasant feeling arose in Ward's heart. He quickly jumped off the stool and shouted to the guys behind him.

"Something's wrong, we have to go back quickly!"

The group of people hurried out of the door.

Ward looked up at the horizon. The sunset had already set. At this time, a new moon was rising from the horizon.

The radiance of the moonlight shone on Ward's face, revealing his sweaty face and surprised expression.

The streets of Brick Alley were deserted, and not even a sound could be heard.

In the hazy moonlight, he could only see a few pairs of red eyes standing on the roofs of the roadside. They were ravens that flew here from the Tower of London. No one could sniff better than these little guys. Breathing out the breath of death.

Ward only felt a chill running down his spine, and dense beads of sweat wet his shirt, making it cling tightly to his back.

"go back!"

However, as soon as he said these words, he heard a bang, and Mr. Martin's tavern closed the door just right. All that was left to Ward was the rickety sign hanging on the door, with the word 'Close' crookedly written on it. .

Martin's Tavern is closed from now on.

From the street to the end of the alley, the lights in each house in Brick Alley were extinguished one after another. The light receded like the tide, replaced by the sound of uniform footsteps on the street. Dome-top hats, black tuxedos, and people stepping on the sewage splashed in waves. The hard high-top riding boots splashed with water, the spotless white gloves, the police officer's knife swinging with the steps, and the faces whose expressions were unclear under the shadows.

Among the countless hazy faces, Ward could only see a flickering red dot.

The red dot suddenly went out, and under the moonlight, Ward saw a white glove stretched out in front of him, followed by an incredibly calm voice.

"Meet Clayton Jones, the new Chief Constable of the Whitechapel Division of the Metropolitan Police's Tower Hamlets division."

Ward glanced at the white gloves in front of him, and then at the shadows behind the gloves. They were pairs of black eyes. They were very round, so they must be very deadly.

Ward showed an ugly smile. He tried not to let his body tremble, and slowly stretched out his hands to hold the white gloves.

Unexpectedly, the moment he was about to touch the gloves, a slap hit his face.

Snapped!

Perhaps out of guilt or fear, the strong Ward was slapped to the ground.

However, before his dizzy head could recover, he felt something stepping on the side of his face.

He slowly raised his head and finally saw the face in front of him clearly. There were some blood scabs on the forehead of that face, and the left eye was also a little bloodshot. However, this face looked slightly funny, It looks so dangerous under the moonlight.

Jones stepped on his head, leaned down and asked, "Do you still know me?"

Ward looked at Jones, his pupils narrowed, and he finally remembered who the new Sheriff of Whitechapel District was.

Ward swallowed and grinned: "Brother Jones, that's all in the past. The one who wants to beat you is Fred, that son of a bitch. We are just following his orders. Don't take it to heart." superior."

Jones nodded slightly when he heard the words, and behind him, a group of red-eyed ravens flew up.

"You are right, there is a distinction between public and private matters. Therefore, I also hope that you will not take it to heart today, because... I am also just executing orders."

Gunshots rang out outside the window, and there was a private room on the second floor of the beer hall.

Sitting at the small round table next to the window was a young man with black hair.

He was holding two teapots and preparing drinks with great interest.

In the teapot, one is filled with soft milk and the other is filled with bitter coffee. When the two are carefully blended in a one to one ratio, they merge into a delicate and beautiful ash.

The red devil was leaning against the window, and the firelight outside the window illuminated his face from time to time. His mouth was full of sharp silver teeth, and there were drool dripping down the corners of his lips.

"Arthur, you have grown up. You have finally begun to understand how to taste coffee. The rich and dense taste is definitely not comparable to the monotonous and immature milky taste."

Arthur didn't answer when he heard the red devil's words. He just took a sip from the teacup.

The coffee was indeed too bitter. Without milk to temper the taste, he didn't know how he would swallow it.

He looked down at Jones, who shot and broke Ward's leg.

The red devil chuckled and whispered beside Arthur: "Arthur, you are right to save his life. Tom and Tony can't do such a thing."

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door outside the house.

The door was gently pushed open, and Mr. Martin stood there nervously holding a tray.

There was sweat on his face, but he smiled and complimented: "Mr. Hastings, let me bring you ham."