Volume 8: The Stones Are the Sky] Chapter 18: The Conspiracy of Orange Core-

Chapter 18 The Conspiracy of Orange Core

Pollstone is a small village located near Crama in the south of Paris. It still retains some ancient brick and wood houses, which have remained unchanged for hundreds of years. In recent years, due to its beautiful scenery and superior location, many wealthy families in large metropolis have chosen to move here, and many nobles have also used various entries to requisition part of the land here for their private construction of manors to enjoy. Their villas are faintly visible on the edge of the forest. In order to meet the needs of the market, small merchants and medium-sized shops have been opened nearby. Later, there were several gas stations. Therefore, the prospect of this village is obvious... To this day, this place has become a town that has been transformed in an inappropriate manner.

However, there are still some traditional things here that have been preserved, that is, oranges. It is located here, one of the largest orange plantations in Oak County, with both yield and quality that are famous all over the world. However, this town itself is not very famous, of course this is also a normal thing. It is like many people always talk about the nouns like "Bordeaux" and talk to you about the aroma of cedar and black currant, the sweetness and tightness of the taste, how many years does red wine turn into pomegranate red, etc. Generally speaking, if you throw a map of this kind of person with a French map, you will immediately fall into a long silence.

In short, Pollstom is a not-so-famous place, and the attractiveness of the specialty of oranges is not as good as red wine. Although the price of buying oranges locally is cheaper and fresher than that in the supermarket near your home, few people will buy them from their place of origin in order to save that amount of money.

On June 19, Tianyi rented a car, listened to the little songs on the radio, whistled and hummed songs, and drove to this town.

You asked him what he was here for? Well, he came to buy oranges specifically...

If he buys hundreds of kilograms of oranges and takes them back to Paris to set up a street stall, including the money for renting a car and refueling, as well as his own labor, and ensures that he will not be shot dead by the Paris urban management during the sale process, he will probably make a small profit in the end.

I think after this calculation, many people will understand why only large contractors can pick up the first-level wholesale of vegetables and fruits, while ordinary merchants can only buy the second, third and fourth-level goods...

Anyway...it can be basically judged that Tianyi came to buy oranges and planned to eat them by himself.

He drove here specially, returned to Paris, took a few kilograms of oranges back to the hotel room, and returned the car, as if he had bought some shameful things himself.

Because he got up late, it was already nine o'clock in the evening when he finally returned to the hotel that day and faced the pile of oranges on the table.

"Ah... troublesome fruit." Tianyi grabbed an orange and said to himself. He hated fruits with seeds and cores very much. Foods that can be completely swallowed by peeling them are the type he likes. Foods like watermelons, grapes, and oranges are wary of biting bitter seeds or cores when eaten in his mouth. It also takes some time to spit out something. Tianyi usually refuses to eat them because he thinks it is troublesome.

But tonight, he sat at the table and did something very strange. He ate four oranges in a row. He ate very slowly and carefully, as if he was doing a very important task. The back and the sound of chewing were indescribable...

…………

On the morning of June 20, an apartment building in Paris.

A black man in his forties walked out of the house. He went to the first floor to check his mailbox, took out the newspaper, threw away the garbage leaflets, and prepared to go to work, just like every morning.

But today is a little different. He saw a yellowed envelope in his mailbox. There was no stamp or address on the envelope, only his name: Galas Dadan.

He put the morning newspaper under his armpit and opened the envelope while walking out the building. Galas thought that this should be the trick of some advertisers. Recently, many insurance companies will send some "invitation letters" to their doorsteps in a decent manner, which is actually to let you attend symposiums with content and sales meetings, provide some valuable gifts, and then try their best to sell the insurance to you.

"I don't even have a stamp. It seems that this time I just found someone to stuff it into the mailbox, saving even the postage." Galas muttered, opened the envelope and took out a slightly yellowed letter paper. At this time, he found that there was something else in the envelope. He looked closer and saw that the things were about one centimeter long, with a light yellow-white surface, oval-shaped, and clearly some orange cores.

"Bastard... This is really disgusting. Did the employee who was in charge of delivering the letters in the insurance company feel dissatisfied and spit the orange kernel inside..." Galas threw away the envelope, and the hand holding the letter only touched the paper with his index finger and thumb, as if the letter was not clean.

He carefully unfolded the letter paper with two fingers on each hand and found that there was a passage written on it: "Hello, Galas Dadan, this is our first greeting to you, and it may be the last time. You nigger have violated the bottom line of our tolerance. This letter means death.k.k.k."

Galas immediately stood there in a daze, and it was not until the buzzing of the car horn and the roar of the driver that drove him back to the side of the road.

A few seconds later, a message flew in Galas's mind. He turned around, trotted a few steps, and pulled out the envelope he had just thrown in from the trash can like a madman. A lot of orange cores had spilled out, and there were still five left. He looked at the dry and small orange cores, widened his eyes, and the fear in his heart gradually rose...

In the evening of that day, the Paris Police Station.

Galas sat in the reception room, holding a glass of water in his hand, waiting nervously.

Soon, a middle-aged policeman walked in and sat opposite his desk: "Mr. Dadan?"

Galas nodded: "Yes."

"I'm Officer Sezel, hello."

"Hello."

Sezel took a registration form and looked at it, "You reported the case and said, are you intimidated?"

"Yes, police officer."

Sezel took out the letter and envelope that Galas received in the morning from his pocket, and took out a transparent bag of evidence containing five orange cores.

After putting these on the table, Sezel said in an official voice: "Sir, are you sure you need to investigate this matter? Do you know that almost every month, we receive several similar reports. In fact, there is nothing scary at all. Maybe there are a few little hooligans who, wherever you offend them, will pretend to be members of the resistance organization, or racists, and make tricks of intimidation letters, just to create psychological pressure on the victims. In fact, they can do nothing, at most they will smash other people's glass with stones. Of course, if they really smash, there will be cameras on every street, and we can arrest them within half an hour."

"You don't understand, police officer! This is the real KKKKK, not a joke!" said Galas.

"Okay OK, Mr. Dadan, why are you so sure?" Sezel shrugged.

"I checked it. There was no fingerprint of the sender on the envelope or the letter paper. Only mine. The five orange cores were also tampered with and cleaned up..."

"Oh oh oh … Wait, wait, sir." Sezel looked down at the form again: "What do you do?" The profession filled in on the form is an art consultant.

"I work in the Louvre, mainly for writing work, commenting on art editors, or helping the commentators in the museum update information and commentary." Galas replied: "In addition, I also do some research and appraisal of artworks. There are equipment in our laboratory..."

"So you took this evidence to test it?" Sezel asked.

"I think there is nothing wrong with that." Galas pulled back the topic of public property and private use: "Listen, officer, I was half-believing and half-doubted when I saw the letter in the morning. But after testing, I was 90% sure that this was not a joke. I, my family, are in danger, and there is at this moment!" He said seriously.

Sezel looked at Galas with complicated eyes for five or six seconds, and sighed, "Okay, sir, I have to record a confession for you in detail, you can wait." He went out for a while, and when he came back, he brought a recorder.

"Let's start, Mr. Dadan," said Sezel. "I want to ask you a few questions. If you think of any situation that may be helpful to the case, please tell me as much as possible."

Galas couldn't wait to say, "First of all, officer, I want to emphasize the seriousness of this matter. You should have a certain understanding of the Klan Klan, right?"

"Well... no." Sezel answered without any concealment, without any intention of pretending to understand.

After hearing this, Galas frowned, spread his hands and made an incredible expression.

In fact, Sezel's performance is normal. Galas overestimated people's historical knowledge. In the 22nd century, racial discrimination was an issue that was almost not mentioned anymore. When people hear the name of the Klan Klan, they know at most that this organization is related to racism. Those who join such an organization will be discriminated against by everyone...

"The terrible secret group was their name, which came from the imaginary sound of a trigger shooting iron. This terrible secret group was composed of soldiers of the Southern Federation who were defeated after the Civil War in the 19th century, and quickly established branches in the United States, that is, in the past Star County, among which the states of Tennessee, Louisiana, Carolina, Georgia and Florida were the most powerful. The Klans used various terrorist means to deal with black voters at that time, murdering or expelling people who disagree with them, in order to achieve their political goals..."

"Okay... Mr. Dadan." Sezel didn't want to listen to you in big classes after he got into work for so many years. He interrupted: "That's all for history class. I know what these guys mean, so let's go back to the case."

"No! I'm about to say the point." Galas continued: "The problem is the way they commit atrocities. Generally, before taking action, they will send them to the hostile people with some strange shape but identifiable things, such as a small leaf-like branch, a few watermelon seeds, or a few orange cores. This is a warning, and those who are warned can choose to give up their original views or flee overseas. If they ignore them, they will inevitably be killed, and they are often killed when they are killed.

This is the oldest and most orthodox practice. In the 20th century, the nature of this organization gradually changed and its members continued to expand, which led to them losing the initial rigor and systematic nature of the organization, and similar traditions were ignored."

Sezel looked at the orange core on the table: "Mr. Dadan, maybe it's just because of your understanding of this history that you can't help but connect these. Perhaps the people who intimidated you just searched some information about the KKKKK on the Internet, had a sudden idea, and used orange core, which looked very similar."

Galas said: "How do you explain the fingerprints, and the orange core has been processed?"

Sezel said: "So I think...even if it's just a copy, this intimidator is not an ordinary person. He is at least a cautious guy. Such a person might be very dangerous and will really threaten the lives of you and your family.

Therefore, please don’t worry about the other party’s identity. Even if it is a strict and long-standing organization, we have to find the motivation to solve the case. My question is, Mr. Dadan, what do you think has caused you to be in such a dangerous situation? You didn’t change your skin color today. You have a family and a family, and you have lived in Paris for a year or two. Why did the other party choose the opportunity to send you a letter?"

Galas thought for a while; "I don't know..." He didn't think about this question, but there was no definite answer: "My wife, she is white, we have a good relationship. Recently, we are discussing having a child... Could it be..." He said this while thinking.

Sezel said: "Have you ever told relatives and friends about wanting children? Or have you talked about this in public?"

"We go to the restaurant outside for dinner almost every week, and it is usually a better restaurant. Maybe we talked about it a few times during the meal. I can't be sure if someone heard it. In addition, my wife may have told her parents, brothers and sisters about it. We both have jobs. My wife may also talk about it when chatting with colleagues. This is a very common thing and a good thing..."

Sezel said: "But now it seems, it is likely to be a reason for racists to cause trouble for you."

"I have never encountered violence caused by racism, nor have I ever encountered discrimination. I have only read these in books." Galas said with a serious expression: "In my opinion, those are a long history, some things that have been abandoned by human civilization, such as religious massacre, slavery and so on. I really didn't expect that today I would encounter such a thing, and I was stunned when I saw that letter."

"You have to stay calm, Mr. Dadan, those who send intimidation letters have nothing to do with fear. If they are really capable, what you see in the mailbox should be an explosive device, not an envelope with an orange core." Sezel said: "What you need now is to continue working and living normally, and don't let a letter ruin everything. If you live in fear all day long and have a heavy psychological burden, it will hit the intimidator's mind.

Please leave the work of investigating the case to our police. Tonight I will send two plainclothes agents to drive an inconspicuous car to your house to squat. If an accident occurs or a suspicious person is walking around nearby, they will arrive as soon as possible to deal with it. In the past few days, you can act as usual. If the case progresses or if there are any problems, I will take the initiative to contact you."

Galas and Sezel discussed many details, about the situation of the plainclothes police officer, their response when they encounter danger, and how to ensure the safety of his wife, etc. Sezel explained for a long time before Galas returned home with a nervous mood.

When Galas walked out of the police station, just across the street from the Paris Police Station, a man was wearing a floral shirt and overalls, a sun hat covering half of his face, a camera hanging around his neck, a travel magazine and a map of Paris, standing there looking around, muttering: "Ah... it took him so long to come out, it seems that he had successfully convinced the police."

Tian Yi closed the impurities on his hand and walked forward in vain, thinking to himself: This guy is a cultural person after all, so he should be able to find clues on the letter... fingerprints, orange cores, handwriting, and letter paper. If he didn't find all of them today, these evidences would be left behind, but the police may not be able to analyze the information I want to convey. At that time, can we only increase the intensity of intimidation?

"Hey, man." A man's voice rang beside him.

Tianyi looked back and saw that it was Officer George.

It was not a coincidence to meet him at the door of the police station. Tianyi did not show any strange expression. Although he knew George, he knew that George could not recognize him and there was no need to panic.

"Sorry, I don't smoke." Tianyi also intentionally changed his accent. It would look strange if his tourists dressed up fluent French English, French Chinese, or simply used French.

Let me explain here that in this parallel universe, the empire has unified language. Schools around the world have teaching Mandarin and English. Both are common languages ​​around the world. Minors who receive formal education must master at least one of them. Generally speaking, if you choose English, it will be more convenient to study science knowledge in the future. Chinese is not wrong with liberal arts and science, and both will naturally be the best. As for other languages, they have become something similar to dialects in various places of origin. People's accents will still differ according to different birthplaces, but not every local school will systematically teach these unofficial languages.

"Ah, it's okay." George's tone was also calm, "By the way, can you ask, sir, you stood opposite the police station for nearly an hour, what are you doing?"

At this moment, a word broke out in Tianyi's heart, thousands of words were all in one sentence: Fake!

When George asked a question, Tianyi had already passed by him. Now Tianyi has two choices. The first is to run away and the second is to turn around and continue to deal with each other.

"Don't you turn your head back, are you afraid that I will remember your face?" George walked over as he spoke. He took out a lighter and lit a cigarette: "Huh... I caught a glimpse of you before leaving the police station for dinner. When I came back, I found you were still there, and then I paid attention to you for twenty minutes." He took a sniff of cigarette: "Are you following the gentleman who just left the police station?"

...
Chapter completed!