The action team sent by Jürgen was not a subordinate unit of the army, but a serious German policeman.

Hitler's Nazi Germany was a police state in the truest sense of the word, and Himmler and his wicked geniuses built a complex structure, a clear division of labor, and a highly efficient state security system, allowing the Nazi Party to control every inch of the territory it ruled and control every move of its inhabitants.

Even if they are insiders of the system, I am afraid that not many people can tell how many types of police there are in Nazi Germany, because the special police alone are divided into more than 10 categories, and the regular order police are more than 20 types.

Whether it is railways, mines, posts and telecommunications, finance, military production, forests, agriculture, dams and rivers, and even forest and wildlife protection, Germany has set up corresponding police units in almost every important field, so that for a period of time, German policing has become the object of worship and learning in many Asian countries. (In fact, it is subordinate to the Japanese Ministry of Internal Affairs, a pure police department, and its members do not have army ranks.) ）

This time the operation was carried out by a special police group under the General Security Bureau, which specialized in the use of force to suppress and arrest dangerous elements that endangered the security of the Empire. In the twenties and thirties of economic depression, violent crime was quite rampant in Germany, and German society was full of poor veterans of the First World War and all kinds of standard military weapons lost from the battlefield.

The action group had been transferred from Sicily with Jürgen, and they had been busy cleaning up the Sicilian mafia, and the Germans had a clear attitude towards the mafia, and those who did not want to cooperate with the Third Reich were ready to go to the concentration camps to develop their families.

These are true experts in armed raids and captures, and although they are not familiar with Cairo, they are also backed by intelligence from Eye of Odin's agents.

As early as the Second Empire, the Germans established a secret intelligence network in Egypt to collect all kinds of important military intelligence in the backyard of the British. By the thirties, both the Espionage Bureau in Canaris and the B3 Division of the General Security Service (under which the B3 Department was responsible for intelligence gathering in North Africa. They have sent a lot of agents here, and they have paid off a large number of informants at great expense.

Now that the Sixth Division of the Imperial Security Bureau has merged with the Espionage Bureau, it has become a subordinate department of Odin's Eye, and its overall strength has not weakened, but on the contrary, it has surpassed those years when it was at its peak.

Germany's intelligence network in Egypt has undergone strict screening and eliminated some of its personnel, most of whom are charlatans who want to sell false information, and many of them are double agents who have been bribed by Britain and France. In order to make a deal with Germany, the British and French intelligence services did not hesitate to hand over the list of these personnel, who may never have dreamed that they would be betrayed by their own masters.

The Third Reich was not shy about showing its most brutal side of such traitors, and it is said that the Eye of Odin used up a hundred meters of steel wire strings in order to execute them.

Eventually, the German intelligence service kept a fifteen-member spy team in Cairo, with about 400 local informants in its hands, although these people did not exist on the surface, and only a few military intelligence officers under the embassy were openly active.

Hudson's whereabouts were discovered by an Egyptian informant, and it was a complete coincidence.

The Egyptian informant who belonged to the German intelligence service at the time, Abdul. Said. Mr. Ali, from an English friend, got a good bottle of spirits. Obviously, this was a serious violation of the doctrine, but in the Arab region at that time, religious laws were not as strict as those of later generations.

Mr. Ali was a well-known businessman in Cairo, and his family had a historic metalworking workshop, and he often visited the homes of the city's magnates, customizing all kinds of metal utensils for their daily use, so much so that he often had access to some of the Egyptian government's insiders.

Mr. Ali didn't bring the liquor for his own enjoyment, he was about to go to Suiza to attend a friend's birthday party, which was a birthday present for that friend. That friend was a distinguished RAF colonel who was very fond of all brands of spirits. Mr. Ali wanted to expand his operations at the processing plant in Suez, and with the presence of a member of the British military, some of the procedures would be very simple.

Early the next morning, Mr. Ali set off with the prepared gifts and the Ford truck that was transporting goods from the factory, Cairo is about 130 kilometers away from the Suez Highway, and 90 percent of the road needs to cross the vast desert, and the road takes about four to five hours.

The driver is Ahmed, the driver of Mr. Ali's workshop, who has been driving for Ali since he was twenty years old and has been driving for almost fifteen years. The Ford truck is a few years old, and the speed can't be improved, but Mr. Ali is not in a hurry, he has plenty of time.

The journey went very smoothly, and by noon, they had seen the low mountains outside Suez City, which had an average height of more than 700 meters, blocking the wind and sand from the Arabian desert and making the port of Suez prosperous. There are two forks in the road ahead, one leading to Suez and the other to the Great Bitter Lake.

"Turn left, let's go to the canal." Somehow, this idea popped into Mr. Ali's head.

"No problem, you're the boss." Without hesitation, Ahmed turned the steering wheel as the Ford truck headed for the banks of the Suez River, a few kilometers away.

"What are we going to do over there? Mr. Ali. Ahmed had the cigarette Ali had given him in his mouth.

"I just want to go to the canal to have a look, I haven't been here for a long time." Ali lit a cigarette and handed the match to the driver.

"It's been a long time since I've been here, remember the last time I delivered to Captain Creson, remember that captain? Mr. Ali, red-haired, with an unsightly rosacea. Ahmed happily gestured in front of his nose.

"Corrison is already a major, and if he knows that you say this about him, he'll be happy to give you a few lashes." After Ali finished speaking, he laughed himself.

"Speaking of which, do you remember his second lieutenant named Hudson? He's still a second lieutenant. Ahmed skillfully struck a match with one hand and lit the cigarette on his mouth.

"It should still be a second lieutenant, how could I forget him, that stupid and greedy donkey." Mr. Ali clearly remembered a not-so-good memory.

"You're so right, he cheated fifty piasters from me, and if I meet him outside the barracks, I'll beat his out" Ahmed shook his fist.

"Then don't forget to cover your face, and help me get a few punches by the way." Ali joked with a smile.

The truck drove along the road to the bank of the canal, along which the locals had carved out a large area of farmland, and the villagers had built a number of small wooden buildings with rammed earth walls along the river, so that they could sit comfortably on the roof platform and watch the boats sail on the canal after a long day's work.

This area near the Great Bitter Lake is gradually developing into a holiday destination for Cairoes, and many Cairo citizens come here every summer to enjoy the sun on the beach and the beauty of the canal.

"It's so nice here, Mr. Ali." Ahmed stood beside the truck, stretching his arms comfortably.

"Yes, you can't enjoy such clean air in Cairo." Mr. Ali took a deep breath with his hands on his waist, and then he choked on his own saliva and began to cough violently.

"It's all right, Mr. Ali." Ahmed slapped his boss on the back with concern.

"It's okay, Ahmed, you have better eyes than I do, help me see if it's Hudson's bastard squatting on the roof of that house over there." Mr. Ali trembled and stretched out his hand and pointed to a small building by the river.

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