When Lamu was confronted with Rajt's body, his mind was unusually clear, and fate played a bad joke on him, tearing all the good things and dreams he had to shreds again. Lamu was on the verge of a mental breakdown, and after leaving the police station that day, he thought about killing himself, following his friend, and escaping the world that had left him so painful.

Rajett's death made him realize the fact that without the protection of the Hudsons, he would once again become the untouchable Lamu who was trampled on the streets. Even though he had mastered advanced scientific knowledge and learned the social etiquette of the upper class, he was still a Dalit pariah to be feared in a caste-oriented society.

Lamu had no identity documents, and at that time, whether a Dalit was born or died, there would be no record in the police station, and the police department would not waste manpower and material resources to register the identity of a Dalit, and these people were completely excluded from social life, and could only do the dirtiest and menial jobs, without any identification at all. Very few Dalits dare to impersonate the upper castes, because once they are discovered, the most brutal lynching awaits them, and Dalits are easy to identify because they have no access to education at all. These have long been unwritten rules in India, and there is nothing Hudson Sr. can do about them.

After Rajett's death, Lamu's entire net worth was only a few dozen rubles of banknotes, which Colonel Fox gave him and had not yet had time to deposit in the bank. All the family's savings, now in Rajt's bank account, amounted to about six hundred pounds, but there was no identification, and Lamulian had an anna (at that time the Indian currency was in hexadecimal, and one rupee was equal to sixteen annas). I can't take it out.

He could no longer work in that spice shop without Rajit's guaranty, and he would be immediately evicted from the apartment if his identity was known to the landlord, who had previously been under the cover of Rajat's British citizenship, who had always thought he was a young man from the Vaishya caste who shared a house with Hudson. Lamu found that although the world was big, it was difficult for him to live.

If he resigned himself to fate, then he should return to that filthy and dilapidated Dalit community and do menial work with other Dalits. If he does a good job, maybe he will be able to marry a wife and have children there and breed the next generation of Dalits. If he is lucky, he will die of old age in a shack, which is quite rare in Dalits, and then dragged to some part of the wilderness or by the ditch to be cremated, and more likely to be exposed to the wild like other Dalits, becoming a source of protein for the wild dogs.

But Lamu was not prepared to succumb to the harsh reality, because he had seen hope that he would be one step away from being able to travel with his best friend to a country where there was no need to divide the high and the low by caste.

Lamu decided to rely on his own wisdom and hands to change this unfair fate, whether it succeeded in the end or not, at least he had already put in the effort.

He has one last job to complete before he acts, and that is to hold a funeral for his friend. But he was a lowly Dalit, and he was not qualified to hold a funeral, because the priests did not even dare to let someone like him into the church for fear of angering the high-caste believers.

After being adopted by Hudson Sr., Lamu never did a single law-breaking thing, but reality forced him to go back to his old business and pick up the skills he had learned on the streets. Lamu stole a truck in the dock area of Karachi, then used the only few dozen rupees he had on him to go to a coffin shop to buy a cheap coffin, and finally he went to the police station to collect the body of his best friend.

Lamu drove back to Hyderabad overnight and then took advantage of the darkness of night to bury Rajat next to Mr. Hudson Sr. Lamu couldn't afford a tombstone, so he buried his beloved silver bracelet, which was given to him by Hudson Sr. for his birthday and the first gift Lamu received in his life, in front of Rajett's grave, which was the only way he could express his grief and longing at the moment, meaning that his heart would always be by his friend's side.

After burying his best friend, Lamu quietly left the cemetery, he forced himself not to look back, and vowed that one day he would return here and build a real tomb for his best friend, erecting a beautiful tombstone, all carved from marble, which I believe Rajat will love.

"He sold the stolen truck and used the money to run to the northern state of Rajasthan, where he joined a criminal gang of low-caste criminals who mainly defrauded some high-caste landowners, and Lamu was exactly what they lacked, and his appearance was born to be the best disguise." Jürgen picked up the coffee pot and refilled the cup.

"What do these people do?" Randolph added a sugar cube to his coffee.

"They borrowed money from ignorant landlords using forged jewellery and bank securities as collateral. A high-caste son from Delhi lost the cash he was carrying on a trip, leaving him with only some jewels and bank bonds, which he was willing to use as collateral in exchange for two-thirds of the value of the loan, and at the same time willing to pay a high profit, and the greedy landlords immediately took out large sums of cash with little suspicion. Jürgen took a sip of his coffee cup.

"Lamu's appearance was suitable for pretending to be the sons of a nobleman of a high caste, and the other gang members pretended to be stewards and servants, but they were able to defraud them of a large sum of money in more than half a year, which is said to be worth more than 200,000 rupees. I have asked my comrades in India to confirm that Rajasthan is still offering a high reward for the arrest of this fraud gang. The SS major turned over a page of documents.

"Lamu became a member of the criminal organization, but because the occupation time was too short and his status in the organization was not high, he did not get much of the stolen money, but it was enough for him to complete the next plan."

"Was he going to infiltrate the British army from the beginning?" Randolph asked in surprise.

Indeed, after he had buried his friend, he began to work on this plan. He was ready to impersonate his friend's identity and use Rajt. Henderson's name lives on, and this is the only way he can break away from the Dalit surname. He even wanted to bear this name and become a member of the British upper class society, as a way to comfort the Hudson who adopted him. When Jürgen said this, a trace of emotion appeared on his face.

"I think I can understand what he's thinking." Jürgen touched his nose.

"I can't understand what these Indians think, fuck the caste system, it's disgusting." Randolph cursed a rare swearing.

Historically, the German Nazis had no problem with the caste system in India, because the ruling class, that is, those high castes, all had Aryan blood, which in Hitler's eyes was their own people, and the oppression of inferior peoples was the natural power of the Aryans. In the eyes of the Nazis, only the Aryans were the best race, born to lead other races.

(There have always been two kinds of remarks on the Internet, one is that Hitler admired the Chinese nation very much, so he gave China a lot of aid.) The other holds the opposite view, saying that the Nazis regarded the Chinese as an inferior people, and they all dragged them to make soap. Both of these arguments are actually wrong, in fact, Hitler did not have much concept of the Chinese in his head, and in his opinion China was too far away to infringe on the living space of the Germanic peoples. In his discussions, he often put Chinese and blacks together, which was a very common view in Europe at that time, you must know that the United States was still implementing the racial segregation and Chinese exclusion laws at that time, and it was not until the outbreak of the Pacific War, out of political propaganda needs, that the United States raised the social status of some Chinese in the United States - author's words)

He had been paying the rent for the apartment in order to keep the Hudson family's belongings, which contained all the identification documents of the Hudson father and son, as well as personal notes and records, which would allow him to better play Rajett. Hudson's character. But identity documents often need to be replaced, and once he goes to the police station to register, Lamu's identity is bound to be revealed, and he is reminded of a story told to him by the retired British colonel.

An interesting incident happened in the British and Indian troops under the command of the colonel, an army captain was accused of being a fugitive wanted in the British mainland, and it turned out that what the whistleblower said was true, and the captain fled from England to India, paid for a false identity, and then infiltrated the British colonial army. At a time when the British were busy suppressing uprisings in the princely states of India, the fugitive gentleman was a captain and commander of an elite colonial cavalry force. Jürgen refills another cup of coffee.

So he was going to copy the captain's doing, and the **** dolph pushed the sugar pot towards Ürgen.

"Thank you, Lieutenant Colonel. You're right, this is indeed a good way to disguise his identity, the army will prepare a full set of certificates for him, and when the service expires, he will completely incarnate as Rajit. Hudson. At that time, he only had to go to the British mainland, and no one would doubt the identity of a retired veteran. Jürgen pouted.

"It's a clever idea, it might work in the British army, but in our Germany..."

"He's going to be arrested in the conscription office, and the Gestapo takes this kind of case very seriously, and we usually treat them as spies, you know we're very efficient." Jürgen smiled sinisterly.

"I've always admired the efficiency of the Gestapo." Randolph nodded in agreement.

"Thank you, even though I have left the Gestapo, I am still proud of my experience there." Jürgen bowed slightly in thanks.

"Well, let's talk about the investigation of this incident, and what are your conclusions so far." Randolph sat up straight, and asked solemnly.

"The complexity of the case is beyond our imagination, and it is completely different from what we should judge, and what happened to Horn and Krieg can be said to be an inevitability within an accident, or an accident within an inevitability......" Huergen's expression became a little strange.

"Do you know what you're talking about? Major Jürgen. Randolph asked, blinking wide-eyed, puzzled.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant Colonel, because I really don't know what words to use to describe this." Jürgen replied with a wry smile.

PS: Continue to ask for monthly passes, recommendations, and subscriptions.

I waited a long time today to start coding words.,I was looking forward to being able to add a new chapter.,But the number of monthly votes has only increased by a dozen votes.,It's still far from adding more.。

To be honest, I'm a little discouraged, I may be kicked out of the top four in the classification this month, obviously there are so many collections, I don't even have a subscription of one-twentieth, and I can't even reach three thousand monthly passes.

I'm going to make a final effort to continue with two hundred votes plus one more chapter, and if I fail this month, it means that the limit of this book is here, and I don't have any more extravagant hopes.

I am still grateful to my book friends who supported me, and you can rest assured that the author will tell the story to the end.